My Heart for the Kingdom
by PostcardsFromGreenland
Summary: In times of hardship Princess Elena must do what she must to save her kingdom, even if that means giving up on love, but things become a lot more difficult when Lord Damon enters the picture. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**A/N: New story. I'm excited to write it. I hope you will enjoy it too. Also, in this story Stefan and Damon are not related.**

* * *

Every muscle in her body ached, her arms felt like lead and she was ready to crawl back into bed and sleep for a millennium, yet the sun had only just begun to rise over the small but proud Kingdom of Mystic Falls. She sighed as she wearily plunged her scrubbing brush back into the bucket, knowing she had hours left to toil before her work would be done. On the plus side, this would be her last day of spring cleaning, ever, provided she managed to get the roof finished. There was a weird thought. No more annual spring cleanings for the rest of her life. The streets and houses would remain tar free, forever. How lovely to come home everyday and not have to spend an hour shivering in the tub, scouring her skin until it was red raw just to feel clean again. Yes, that was certainly the upside, but it was accompanied by a strong sense of foreboding. Once this final spring clean was over there would be no further demand for her mother's cleaning line of detergents, bleaches and soaps, which were known throughout Mystic Falls to be the fastest way to remove tar from any surface, from skin to stone. The secret ingredient was the tiny hint of darporic acid her mother added to every product. Not enough to harm the person or object, but just enough to strip away the tar. This was a fiercely guarded family secret which had just become completely worthless. What would become of her family when their little shop inevitably closed and their only livelihood was irretrievably lost?

* * *

Her Royal Highness Princess Elena of Mystic Falls was lost in thought as she watched the young village girl diligently cleaning her tar coated roof. She was rather precariously perched in her favourite spot, the arched window of a round stone turret, the tallest in the castle, from who's ledge she often watched the sunrise over the kingdom. She was reflecting on the many changes she had witnessed in Mystic Falls throughout her short lifetime. When she was a little girl the fields below her were filled with neat, ordered rows of lush, green plants. At that time Mystic Falls was the world's number one exporter of tarnoch root. Tarnoch root was used as a power source, to light up the darkness, to cook food, to heat houses, to forge weapons and to power industries. The climate in Mystic Falls was ideal for growing tarnoch root as on most days throughout the year, no matter the season, the sky was overcast and tarnoch root will wither and die if exposed to too much sunshine. So Mystic Falls became rich and prosperous and its citizens were happy and well-fed. The one downside to tarnoch root was when burnt it let off a noxious black gas which eventually fell to earth as a layer of tar, covering everything. And so the world turned black. Every year, each kingdom would take a week and the entire population would scrub and scour until all was clean and bright again. In Mystic Falls the King held a grand ball to which everybody, commoner and aristocracy alike, was invited in order to thank the people for their efforts and to enjoy a special night before the world gradually turned dark again.

Then came progress and with progress came change, especially in the Kingdom of Mystic Falls. In the Kingdom of Eluica vast deposits of char crystal were discovered. One small char crystal burnt for ten times as long as 50 pounds of tarnoch root and it did all this without producing any smoke or covering anything in tar. So, just like that, tarnoch root became obsolete. Tarnoch root farms were abandoned and became the overgrown tangles of vegetation that Elena could see spread out below her. Mystic Falls became impoverished, people were starving and becoming increasingly desperate. Many turned to crime and much of the countryside was ruled by bands of outlaws who made it their business to rob, pillage and rape. Mystic Falls was in big trouble and almost all hope of recovery had been lost.

This day represented the final blow for the tarnoch farming industry. The nail in the coffin, the day Mystic Falls, often referred to as The Tarnoch King, was officially making the switch to char crystal. In practice, most businesses and households had already been using char crystal for many months, but there were still a loyal handful who clung to the old ways. But Mystic Falls had to admit defeat, the fact was that char crystal was just easier, more efficient and most of all cleaner to use. Progress stops for no one and so we must all march on.

* * *

'I should have known you'd be up here again, Elena.'

'Oh, Caro! You startled me! Yes, I was just watching the sunrise.'

'So, what are your plans for the day? Want to help me pick out a dress for the ball?'

'What, now? It's hours until the ball starts!'

Caroline was Elena's best friend, chief confidant and official lady-in-waiting. They had met when they were both 16 and Caroline had been presented at court for the first time. Elena found most of the high-born ladies to be insufferable bores, but Caroline's easy confidence and caustic tongue made a her a refreshing change, so when it came time to pick her lady-in-waiting, Elena had no doubt who to choose. For the most part Caroline did her job well and was a good friend to Elena. She had certainly been Elena's rock and source of solace through her troublesome courtship with Stefan. She knew how to lighten the mood and to keep things in perspective, skills which Elena came to treasure in those difficult months. She had even been there to hold Elena's hair back for her as she bought up the entire content of her stomach on her wedding morning. However, recently Caroline's vapid fixation with boys and dresses had begun to grate on her last nerve. It was like she didn't even realise their world was falling apart around them.

'Well, of course. I need to look perfect if I want to get Count Matthew to ask me to dance, and you know that awful Lady Rebekah was all over him at the last ball. I can't stand her. You know, I hear she let some Baron, who she met when her father took her to Elucia, kiss her! On the lips! Can you imagine? Anyway, now everybody is saying she's fast.'

'She went to Elucia?'

'Yes. Didn't you hear? Her father's the one importing all the char crystal to Mystic Falls. They say he's the only person in the kingdom making any money at the moment.'

Elena made no reply, but looked off pensively into the distance.

'So anyway, Elena, what are you going to do this morning if you're not getting ready for the ball?'

'I'm going to the temples.'

'Again? You've been doing an awful lot of praying recently. I didn't know you were so religious.'

'Neither did I, but in hard times people turn to the gods for help, and I'm no exception.'

'Gosh, you're so serious these days, you're making me feel guilty. Tell you what, why don't I go with you. Might do me good to do a little praying, cleanse my soul and all that.'

'No. Listen, Caroline, don't take this the wrong way, but I'd rather be alone this morning, I'll catch up with you later and we'll get ready for the ball together.'

'As you wish, Your Grace.'

* * *

The temple district always had a sense of grandeur about it, but just after spring cleaning it was one of the most spectacular, awe-inspiring sights in the kingdom. Elena was not the only one feeling the need for a little divine intervention these days, and even at this early hour the temples were crowded with people eager to bend the ear of their chosen God or Goddess. The Gods were known to grant requests and answer prayers, but you had to be sure to choose the right God to ask. Each of them favoured a specific aspect of human life and were deaf, dumb and blind to anything else. Of course, even if you selected the correct deity there was no guarantee you would get any help. Most of the time they were too busy fighting and fornicating amongst themselves to pay the human world any mind. One human year seemed like only a few hours to a God. Wrapped up in their immortality, they have been known to forget about humans for entire decades. However, in tough times people have the tendency to pray hard, on the off chance that someone is listening. The power of hope, to which even a princess is not immune.

Elena wandered slowly down the uneven cobbled street, flanked on either side by two upstanding soldiers of the Royal Guard in their gleaming copper armour. Her attention was drawn to a temple on her right by the pungent, spicy smell it was emitting. She recognised it by it's yellow-gold walls and scantily clad high priestesses as the Temple of Saffron, Goddess of Lust. She continued past the spiked iron fortress that was the Temple of Trigger, God of Rage. She covered her ears to block out the din coming from a soft marquee-like structure made of multi-coloured silks, which was the Temple of Fiesta, God of Merriment. Onwards she meandered, by the Great Oak Tree, where people came worship Herbert, God of Growth. When she saw the shimmering portal of lights which marked the entrance to the Temple of Aurora, Goddess of Love, she knew her destination was close, for she had walked here many times in the recent months. A few paces further and her goal came into sight, a smooth, pearlescent, egg-shaped building, the Temple of Opal, Goddess of Childbearing.

No man has ever set foot in this temple, so her guards waited on the street outside as Elena climbed the steep steps, slipped off her soft leather boots and entered quietly. Inside it was dim, lit only by hundreds of small, unfragranced, white candles. There were no windows, no decorations, no effigies of the Goddess. It was simply a softly lit, white, dome-shaped room. Elena walked to the centre of the temple and with practiced ease, gracefully knelt down and began to pray.

'Opal, Goddess of Childbearing, I beseech you, hear my prayer and grant me your blessing. I know what I pray for is kind of the opposite of what you do, but I figure if you can help couples make a child, I bet you can stop me from getting pregnant just as easily. Tonight, after the ball, my husband will come to me and try to get me with child. To create an heir for the kingdom. I know this is my duty, but I implore you, hear me as you have heard me many times before. Please, I need more time, I'm only eighteen, I'm not ready to be a mother. I know that eighteen is old enough by most people's standards and many girls my age already have a child, but I beg you to see that it is not right for me. I am already sacrificing everything I have to make my father happy and to help save our little kingdom. I have married Stefan, who I abhor, so he has the power to change all of our fortunes. Everybody agrees he's the right man for the job. Hear me Goddess, feel my pain, I gave up my heart to save my kingdom. Isn't that enough?'


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**A/N: A little note to say thank you to those who chose to follow/favourite this story, it's nice to have some company on my new journey. Special thanks to BabygirlIndia for her lovely encouraging review. Hope you will enjoy Damon and Elena's first encounter. **

* * *

'Father, please! Bear baiting is a barbaric form of entertainment. Consider, would it not be more pleasing to have Brandon the Bard serenade us with an epic love poem or have The Slipton Twins amuse the court with their comic mime?'

His Royal Highness King George of Mystic Falls struggled weakly to prop himself up into a more regal looking bed repose. Elena rushed forward to help, rearranging the pillows and straightening the counterpane. These actions only seemed to enrage the king still further as to him they served as another sign of his ever increasing incompetence.

'Desist, child! I am not quite in my grave yet and I will not have you fussing over me like I'm a swaddling babe, nor will I allow you to tell me how to run my kingdom.'

'Father, forgive me, I only meant...'

'Bear baiting is an important tradition of the spring cleaning ball. The first thing to sully our newly polished floors must always be blood. It pleases Trigger, God of Rage, and ensures we shall have a strong year ahead.'

'Yes, but must we always look to Trigger for our strength? Consider, there are many other Gods we might call upon to bless us and guide us through the dark.'

'It is tradition and that's the end of the matter. I won't discuss it further.'

'Sire, if I might be allowed to interject...'

Prince Stefan strode confidently into the king's bedchambers, his strong, leather riding boots clomping loudly on the flag-stoned floor and reverberating off the walls.

'Ah, Stefan, my boy, come, please, shed some wisdom on our little debate. Be the voice of reason to moderate we two stubborn, idealistic fools.'

'Your Majesty, I would call neither my wife nor my king a fool by any means, but perhaps the best solution lies somewhere in the middle. In such hard times why should we hedge our bets on just one God? Certainly Trigger must be honoured, but why not ask all the God's for their blessings this year? After all, we need all the help we can get. Why not slaughter and roast a pig, to bloody the floor and appease Trigger. Yet also, we may plant a tree in Herbert's name, sing a love song in the name of Aurora, and lift our goblets and drink deep of wine in celebration of Fiesta.'

'Very wise, my boy. Yes, it shall be so. As each day passes it gladdens my heart to think that when I pass on, I leave my kingdom in good hands. Elena, my daughter, you chose well in your marriage. You have made me very proud.'

Elena rose from her seat at her father's side and bent over the frail old man to give him a gentle kiss on his paper-thin cheek. The two men hardly noticed as she exited the room, so engrossed had they become in their talk of the kingdom. It irked Elena that her father would listen to Stefan and take his advise, where as he still treated her like a child. She loved her father very dearly, but he clung religiously to the old ways and placed such a high value on tradition that he would never be able to allow her, his only child, a say in the running of the kingdom. Her greatest contribution to Mystic Falls in his eyes was her marriage and he asked nothing further from her other than the production of an heir. Yet what had inflamed her petty anger most was that it was Stefan, her loathsome husband, who had saved the day and come up with the compromise that not only appeased both her and her father, but was also an admittedly excellent idea for the future of the kingdom. Why hadn't she though of that?

* * *

'So, what do you think? The red or the green?'

'Hmmm, yes, you look lovely.'

'No, you're right, the blue is the best. It really makes my eyes pop, plus it has the best jewels on it. I mean have you seen the size of the sapphire on the collar?'

'Yes, Caroline, it's perfect.'

Elena was sitting at her dressing table, distractedly brushing her hair, her thoughts a million miles away, only half listening to Caroline's incessant prattle.

'...I mean, not even one tiny diamond, nothing, just lace embroidery, she looked positively middle class! I hope I don't ever fall so low!'

'Who? You mean Lady Victoria? Well, I think it's admirable. I heard she ripped every stone off all her collars and cuffs, sold them at a pawn shop and sewed the lace on herself. All of that so her brother can stay on at the temple as an apprentice priest of Requin, God of the Sea.'

'I guess. So what are you going to wear, Elena?'

'Oh, the pink one, I think.'

She indicated with a slight tilt of her head a dusky rose coloured gown hanging on the door of her mahogany armoire. It was made of exquisite Mordanian silk, which was expertly tailored to fit her body so she looked demure and elegant, with the merest hint of the treasures that her body beneath had to offer. It was cut into the style that all the young ladies favoured at that time, as fashion dictates. A high collar encrusted with diamonds and rose quarts with bejeweled cuffs to match. Her arms were covered by gossamer thin chiffon sleeves and the only bare flesh on show would be her delicate back.

The dresses, in particular the collars, could be used as a tool, by those who valued such information, to determine a lady's social ranking. The rich elite peppered their collars with precious gems, the middle with fine lace, and the poor used ribbons or fresh flowers.

'And, are you going to wear the diamond tiara to match?'

'No, that's not necessary for the spring cleaning ball, thank the Goddess. Those things really hurt my head.'

'Still, you'll look beautiful. Stefan won't be able to keep him eyes off you.'

'Oh, I'm sure he'll manage to tear himself away...'

'Anyway, on an entirely new conversational note, how was your morning at the temples? Which one did you head for?'

'Oh, you know, several. I wanted to keep my opportunities for divine intervention as wide as possible.'

Elena kept it vague, not that she didn't trust Caroline, but some things are strictly between a woman and her Goddess.

'So were you praying about anything in particular?'

'Just drop it, will you Caro? Come and help me with my hair, it's nearly time to go down.'

* * *

The grand ballroom looked stunning in all it's excessive opulence. It seemed like everything in the room from the enormous candelabra overhead to the tiniest shrimp fork had been polished until it gleamed, so the ballroom twinkled like a Dragon's grotto in the candlelight. Elena settled comfortably into her chair at the top table, with her father on one side and her husband on the other, and prepared herself for a long night of duty. First, there was sumptuous feasting on exotic dishes from all corners of the globe. Next, came tedious speeches of gratitude to the common folk for all their hard work. Then, came the offerings to the Gods, rendered a tad more amusing when Trigger's pig made a bid for freedom and was chased around the ballroom by an irate chef armed only with a wooden spoon. The tributes ended in a spectacular fire juggling display in supplication to Pele, Goddess of Fire.

Finally, the tables were cleared away, the orchestra started up and Elena obediently allowed herself to be lead onto the floor by her husband. After all, it was tradition that the Prince and Princess open the dancing at the spring cleaning ball, and nothing pleased her father more than observing old customs. All eyes were on them as they spun slowly around the room, so Elena tried not to grimace as flat-footed Stefan stood on her toes for what seemed like the hundredth time. She could see why he hated dancing, he really was terrible at it, a disastrous combination of graceless rigidity and clumsy oafishness. At least Elena could rest safely in the knowledge that this was the only dance her husband would ask of her that night. Once his duty was done her wouldn't fail to use the celebration as an opportunity to talk business.

* * *

Elena hurried warily through the main entrance hall of the castle, desperate to escape for a moment and breath in the cool night air. She glanced over her shoulder as she rushed on, to make sure Lord Pompous Bore or Sir Halitosis weren't chasing after her to demand another waltz.

She collided with something so solid that at first she imagined she must have somehow gotten turned around and run herself straight into a wall. However, rubbing her pert nose in confused irritation she looked up to find herself staring deeply into a pair of animated blue eyes.

'Well, if this is to be my punishment I shall make it my resolution to always arrive late.'

'Forgive me, good sir, I was not paying attention to my step.'

He was taller than her, yet not overwhelmingly so, as Stefan was. He was dressed from head to toe in true inky black, yet despite the monotony of his colour palette she could tell his clothes were well made and of the latest fashion, and from that she deduced he was high born.

'There is nothing to forgive, my lady...yet if you truly wish to do penance then I am sure I can think of an enjoyable way for you to make it up to me...'

He tilted his hat back and gave her a rakish wink.

Elena was stupefied. Did he not know who she was? She was a princess! A married princess! Nobody was allowed to speak to her that way.

'I can see that my striking good looks and undeniable charm have rendered you speechless. Allow me to presume you have inevitably agreed to my proposal so that we might skip the tedious discussion and find a quiet corner somewhere and begin to take our pleasure...'

He placed an assertive yet tender hand directly onto her exposed back and began to guide her down the corridor. Tendrils of pleasure wrapped around her spine as he lightly caressed her skin with the pads of his fingers. It was like nothing she'd ever felt before. At that, the spell was broken, and she remembered who she was and why she'd never experienced this sensation.

'No, stop!'

'But why, my sweet? I can tell from this simple touch that you have a sinfully, devourable body under that sugary, pink wrapping. You will more that satisfy my needs for tonight.'

'Your needs!?'

'Oh, don't worry, I'm an excellent lover, I've had many hours of practice and never had a complaint. I can assure you, you'll be quiet gratified, in fact, you will be begging me to...finish you off...'

The shock of his impertinence was all too much for Elena, she blushed deeply and lowered her gaze to the floor in an effort to collect herself.

'Right, I see. Virgin is it? Well, no matter, I can work around that. Come with me.'

His hand at her back started to apply pressure again in an attempt to turn her back down the corridor. As words failed her she resorted to the only option left open to her in order to terminate this encounter: violence.

She raised one slender foot and stomped down hard on his toes with her well-heeled shoe. He howled in pain and began to hop around on one foot. She took this opportunity to flee before he drew attention to them. She breathed a sigh of relief as she re-entered the ballroom. She would be safe in here, he would never try to engage her again in front of all these people.

* * *

It was late and the ball was drawing to a close. Elena and Caroline were seated at the edge of the dance floor, resting their feet and sipping on refreshing iced champagne. Elena was staring out at the couples as they whirled past her when she noticed her inappropriate admirer from the hallway dancing scandalously close to Jenny Smith, the youngest daughter of the farrier from the village. Elena prepared herself to use her most casual tone, before inquiring:

'Hey, Caroline, who is that gentleman dancing with Jenny Smith?'

'Where...? Oh, yes, that's Lord Damon of Salvatore. He arrived in Mystic Falls a few weeks ago. He's very mysterious, nobody knows anything about him, except that he's ridiculously wealthy and has lived all over the planet, but now he wants to settle down here. Goddess knows why. If I could live anywhere in the world I certainly wouldn't choose gloomy old Mystic Falls, no offense Elena. Anyway, why do you ask?'

'Oh, no reason, just wondering..'

'He is rather dreamy looking, isn't he?'

'No, I wouldn't exactly say that.'

'Sure, not when you have Stefan to drool over.'

'Right, not when I have Stefan...'

The music stopped and Damon gave Jenny a low bow. As he straightened up he chanced a glance in Elena's direction and caught her staring at him. Their eyes locked for just a second before Elena abruptly turned away. He excused himself to Jenny and began to make his way over to the delectable little specimen he'd been eying in the hallway earlier. He wouldn't have had to go through all this small talk and dancing rigmarole if she'd just gone with him when he first arrived. The little minx had spirit, he'd give her that, and his toes were still feeling a bit fragile, but that only served to inflame his passion for her further. He had to have her and nobody else was going to do that night, no matter how hard sweet Jenny ground herself up against him.

He was within inches of his target and the widening of her eyes indicated that she knew what was coming, when a broad-shouldered, foppish looking youth appeared at her side and grasped her roughly by the elbow.

'Come, Elena, it's time we retired to your bedchamber. Duty is calling us.'

'As you wish, my husband.'

Elena allowed herself to be led meekly away by Stefan with no small sense of relief at his unusually fortuitous timing.

* * *

There was nothing like a freshly snapped neck to put the world at rights in Lord Damon's opinion. The hunt, the chase, the kill, it was all so reliably pleasing, it never failed to satisfy. Nothing puts things into perspective more effectively than the warm blood of some dumb peasant girl, who he had deemed too plain to seduce but good enough to eat, sliding down his parched throat.

So, the lady was married. It was disappointing, yes, because it meant that ultimately he'd be unlikely to be able to kill her undetected, her pesky husband was bound to notice. However, in a way it was better. A nice little piece like that, ready and willing to sate his every sexual desire, a man could do a lot worse. Yes, she'd be worth keeping around for a bit. After all, there were plenty more fish in the sea, to murder and so forth.

Damon dragged himself out of his reverie and returned to the problem at hand. That was the bother with old age, when you had a couple of centuries under your belt the world didn't seem nearly as exciting as it once had. He'd been everywhere, done everything. A few decades in the comfort of his own home seemed like just the thing, but that meant he had to take the time to bury the bodies, and that was simply tedious.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The sun had fully risen and Elena's stomach was growling, a clear sign that it was time she headed back to the castle in search of breakfast. She had awoken well before dawn and had spent the last few hours rambling through Pine Hill Forest. Daybreak was her favourite hour, it was such an uncomplicated time of day. The morning mists gradually parted and the thin light of dawn feebly attempted to illuminate the dense forest floor, resulting in a gentle mottled gloom. Slowly the creatures of the forest began to stir and sleepily look to the day ahead. It was the only part of her day in which Elena felt she could truly be alone and unobserved. She was free to let herself fall into the full depth of every emotion she had suppressed the day before. It wasn't proper for a princess to be so full of sorrow that she cried or so happy she laughed until she fell off her chair or so full of rage she screamed and threw things. A princess must be moderate in all things for she is always on show and must constantly present her best self because she is the figurehead of her kingdom. These morning walks were her solace and her own personal form of therapy, so by the time the birds began their joyful morning prelude she was ready to join them in hopeful anticipation of the day.

She crept back inside the castle grounds via the tradesman's entrance, receiving a cordial nod from an exhausted looking nights watchman about to be relieved of his commission. She knew this particular guard by sight. Although they had never spoken they had an extremely successful symbiotic relationship. He told no one of her morning excursions and she held her tongue about his lady friend who often came up from the village to help him while away the long hours of his shift.

She passed through the kitchen, requesting fresh fruit, yoghurt and strong coffee to be delivered to her chambers at the cook's earliest convenience. She was crossing the vine garden, the sumptuous smell of honeysuckle pervading her nostrils, when she came upon the Queen lying on the parapet of an old stone fountain, one hand trailing idly in the water.

'Mother, what are you doing here at this hour? Come, we shall break our fast together.'

'Shh! I'm listening to the birds, my dear. They are singing me a sweet, sad song of times gone by.'

'Oh, Mother, not again! You know it does you no good to keep dwelling on the past. We have so much to be thankful for in the present and so much to look forward to in the future.'

'You don't understand me, Elena. You know nothing of my life before you came along. I had everything and now it's all gone. It slipped away from me like sand through my fingers.'

Queen Sophie was considered a great beauty when she arrived in Mystic Falls from across The Rolling Ocean. She was fresh faced in youth, with exotic pale skin and unusually fair hair the colour of churned butter. She had a magnetic personality, playfully mischievous and full of the joys of life. The King was instantly smitten. And so when her family departed at the end of the season, naive little Sophie remained, alone in a foreign land of which she was now queen. For several years all was well. At first her newly acquired royal status kept her entertained. However, after a while she became fretful and restless and would often talk of leaving Mystic Falls to continue the Grand Tour of the world she had started as a maid. Of course this was out of the question. The King must rule and the Queen must remain at his side. Then, out of the blue, all talk of departure ceased and Sophie appeared to be her old self again. In fact, she was singing in the showers, skipping on the stairs and took to going on solo expeditions around the kingdom, visiting her subjects and bringing bread to the poor. Such an abrupt change in spirits seemed almost too good to be true and the King felt a little uneasy in his heart. He soon found a satisfactory explanation for his wife's turn around upon the announcement that at last the Queen was with child. This was a happy time both within the castle walls and though out the lands. Yet, all too soon the bubble burst and not two months after Elena was born the Queen suffered from a bout of inexplicable depression and dissatisfaction from which she never recovered. Hence, for as long as she could remember Elena was raised by a never ending succession of kindly nannies as her own mother seemed too distracted by the past to notice her present.

'As you wish Mother. I will have cook send something out to you here and I will come and visit you this afternoon. We can take a turn about the castle together.'

'Yes, thank you. You are very obliging and I hope you know how dearly I love you, my daughter. But go now, I must have some peace, I have much to reflect upon.'

Resigned, Elena continued on, wishing not for the first time that she could be enough to hold her mother's attention.

* * *

Damon hissed in irritation and slammed the shutters in his bedroom closed against the rapidly invading morning light. The incompetent meat sack who was responsible for his painfully smoking hand was going to get...fired. Then Damon was going to watch the tears and recrimination as the worthless turd explained to his family that they were all going to starve. Finally, when the fool thought the worst was over and went to seek relief at the local tavern, Damon would appear and deliver the ultimate consequence of his ineptitude.

It was possible that he was over-reacting and his intense irritability had far more to do with the events of the preceding night than a small oversight and a slight case of day burn. But what was the point of being dammed for all eternity and so forth if he couldn't take his bad mood out on unsuspecting bystanders?

He spent most of the night roaming between taverns, late night cafes and dance halls in search of the bewitching wench he had encountered at the ball. He didn't dare make inquiries about her least he draw undue attention upon himself. The village folk were already suspicious of him. To them he was a foreigner, despite having been born in Birch Manor which lay not five miles from the centre of the village. Of course, in their eyes he had just recently bought the place after it remained inexplicably empty for decades.

So he had visited all the popular haunts in the village in searched of her. He had listened in on the peasant's conversations for any mention of her, but had not encountered the barest whiff of a lead. All talk had been of the ball, not of his girl, but of some stupid princess, who he was sure could not hold a candle to his mystery lady, but who was greatly admired even so. In desperation, he had wandered the town long after the last tavern had shut and the last drunk had passed out, sniffing the air like a common mutt in hopes of catching her distinctive scent on the breeze.

It seemed like she had vanished. If his tender toes did not provide ample evidence to the contrary he would have been tempted to believe she had merely been an apparition. He hadn't been this obsessed with one girl in over a hundred years and he had never been this stuck on an expendable, pathetic human.

It was simply the thrill of the chase, that had to be it. Once he found her, and he would find her, he could get this all out of his system and get back to the banal day to day of being the living dead.

* * *

'Where have you been?'

'Goddess, Caro! You gave me such a fright. I nearly jumped out of my skin.'

'Just answer the question, Elena. Yet again I find you creeping in at breakfast time after a night spent out of your bed doing I can only imagine what.'

'Who do you think you are, questioning me like this? You're not my mother. In fact, I met my mother on my way up and she seemed perfectly fine with it. So can we leave it at that?'

'Your mother! You know as well as I do that your mother would be fine with you doing back-flips on the moon as long as it didn't interrupt the many crucial hours she spends romanticizing the past.'

'True, but still it's none of your business and frankly I'm getting a bit sick of you interrogating me about my every movement. What do you want? A play by play including my eating habits and bathroom schedule?'

'Look, I'm sorry I've been such a nag lately Elena, but I'm worried about you. You're always trompsying around at odd hours and you never tell me anything anymore. I'm supposed to be your best friend, at least I was...'

'You still are, Caroline.'

'Then why don't you trust me?'

'It's not that I don't trust you, it's just that the truth really is that boring. I'm not a secret spy for the Elucian government, I'm not having a torrid affair with the stable boy, I really have just been praying at the temples and walking in the woods.'

'If you say so...'

'I do. So can we just leave it at that, I don't want to have to look for another Lady-in-waiting.'

* * *

Elena moved briskly down the long hallway that led to the King's chambers, her light summer dress catching the air in her wake and ballooning out like a parachute behind her. She heard voices as she approached the door, the careworn rasp that belonged to her father and Stefan's unmistakable boom. As she paused at the door to smooth down her attire and hastily re-pin her hair in an effort to appear well groomed, she caught a snippet of the conversation going on behind the door.

'...twelve reported missing so far and one body found with her throat torn up, they were afraid it was going to fall clean off when they dragged her out of Lamprey Burn.'

'Well, my son, I think it's clear we are dealing with a vicious mad man and we can only assume that those missing will have suffered a similar fate. What is to be done about it? Have we any suspects?'

'Quite right, Your Majesty, this is a serial murderer who will kill again and again until he is bought to justice. The villagers are understandably terrified. Many are becoming too afraid to leave their houses. What little trade that was still occuring is suffering because of it, a set back we can ill afford in today's economy. We need to take action, and quickly, before too much damage is done.'

'Too much damage has already been done, Stefan, thirteen girls have been brutally murdered.'

'Yes, of course, and we mourn their loss with deep regret, Your Highness. But many others may still be saved if we act swiftly and decisively.'

'What do you propose?'

'I humbly suggest we send The National Guard to arrest Lord Damon of Salvatore and hang him post haste.'

The National Guard, or The Rippers, as they were more commonly known, were a new faction of the Mystic Falls constabulary, created by Prince Stefan and given far reaching and unprecedented powers in order that they might do his biding more effectively. Stefan purported they were necessary to help him rid Mystic Falls of the bands of outlaws who infested the countryside after the economic crash. However, it was felt by many that they used undue force and abused their powers, hence their unflattering nickname.

Elena had heard enough, she burst through the door unannounced and intervened.

'You're going to hang him, just like that? With no trial? No investigation? No chance to defend himself? Is that how we do things these days?'

'Elena, I am appalled that any daughter of mine should be so rude as to eavesdrop and the interrupt a private conversation, which happens to be a matter of national security. I expect you to apologies to your husband.'

'That's quite alright, Your Majesty, my wife raises an excellent point, the right to a fair trial is one of the cornerstones of running a just and liberated kingdom and when things have straightened out a little I will wholeheartedly support the passing of a law to that effect. However, while matters look so bleak, I don't think we can afford to be so idealistic. Lord Damon's arrival in town coincides with the date of the first disappearance. He is a foreigner who nobody can vouch for. More than likely once we hang him the murders will stop.'

'And what if they don't? Father, I know that you would not rest easy if you knew you had hung an innocent man.'

'This is very true, my child. Yet, Stefan is also right, we do not have the time nor the resources for a lengthy investigation and trail. I think the best course of action is to arrest Lord Damon, for preliminary evidence points to his guilt, and let him choose his trail by combat. The the Gods will judge him and decide his fate.'

* * *

Caroline bent forward and scooped up a handful of her own fleshy breast and viciously yanked it inwards and upwards. She repeated the action with her other breast and straightened up to admire her plumped up cleavage in the full length mirror. She slipped a matching crimson silk robe over the top of her corset and lacy briefs. She tied the robe securely to preserve her false modestly and touched up her lipstick. She edged silently down the hall until she reached the solid oak door which marked her destination. Here she loosed the robe to reveal her carefully arranged decolletage and knocked softly on the door.

'Who is it? What do you want?'

'Stefan, it's me, Caroline.'

'Oh, Caroline, yes, come in.'

She entered quickly, shutting the door firmly behind her and arranging herself into what she hoped was an alluring pose.

'So, come on, get on with it girl!'

'You mean you want me to...'

'Yes, give me the report, I have things to do, you know.'

Stefan glared impassively over his crystal glass of scotch as Caroline tried to compose herself.

'Ummm, not much to report. She went to pray at the temples before the ball and she went out again last night and didn't come back until after sunrise. She said she'd been walking in the woods.'

'She said! What use do I have for what she said? If I wanted to know that, I'd ask her myself. If you have nothing useful to contribute then you might as well get out.'

'No, wait! It's not much, but there was one thing. At the ball, she snuck out to get some air, I followed her and I saw her talking to someone in the entrance hall.'

'Who?'

'I think is was Lord Damon of Salvatore. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but they were standing very close and he had his hand on her back.'

'I knew it! That little whore! Lord Damon, huh? Well he won't be a problem much longer. I knew he was trouble from the moment I clapped eyes on him, smug bastard. Anyway, then what happened?'

'I don't know. I thought he might have seen me so I went back inside. Elena came in soon after me, so I don't think...'

'I don't want to hear what you think. Useless bitch.'

'Please, Stefan, I'm trying, but she never tells me anything anymore.'

'Well, try harder.'

Caroline started to cry softly, her carefully applied make-up smudging down her face. She had loved Stefan since they were children, playing together in the castle grounds. He could be cruel sometimes, but he was a great man and everything he did was for the greater good of the kingdom. Elena didn't appreciate what she had.

'Stefan, honey, you've had a rough day. Maybe I can help relieve some of your...tension.'

'Well, since you've gone to all that effort to tart yourself up for me, I suppose you can help. Get on your knees.'


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

'Caroline! Can you help me find my silver circlet, the one with the pearls. Father will have a cow if I don't wear something. Wearing a crown is a sign of respect to your people, it lets them know you are taking the occasion seriously...blahbidy blah blah blah...'

'Here, found it, I'll help you fix it. We're late enough as it is.'

It was the morning of Lord Damon's trial and judging by the gathering crowds Elena could see from her window, the whole of Mystic Falls had turned out to watch. Damon had been arrested the night before by a dozen of Stefan's best Rippers, so naturally he had come without a fuss despite his protestations of innocence. A quick search of his manor had revealed no further evidence linking him to the murders, but Stefan pressed on regardless. Much to Stefan's great delight, Damon chose the sword as his weapon for his trial by combat. It was universally acknowledged that Stefan was the best swordsman in Mystic Falls and there wasn't a duel or melee from which he hadn't walked away the victor. The thought of taking Damon down, personally, seemed to fill Stefan with so much relish that Elena became rather suspicious of his motives for charging Damon in the first place. She suspected Stefan had some ulterior vendetta with Damon, although she could not think what, since Damon was newly arrived and as far as she was aware the two had never met. Elena didn't know whether she was relieved or disappointed when her father put the kibosh on this plan by forbidding Stefan to offer himself up as a challenger, stating that he was too valuable to the kingdom to risk. It certainly would have been an interesting fight and there would have been a slim but real chance that she would have been a widow by the end of it.

Even with Stefan out of the mix the trial had piqued Elena's interest. She had never seem a trial by combat before, but she had always questioned if the Gods really did intervene and spare the falsely accused or condemn the guilty. Somehow she doubted they would have the inclination to preside over every trial the world over, yet the result was taken as gospel all the same. And then there was Damon himself. She had to admit she was curious to see how he handled this. He had been so domineering and confident though out their encounter, she wondered if he could maintain the facade with his life on the line.

* * *

Elena smoothed her skirts under herself as she settled into her place in the royal box. Her father was seated on an ornate thrown in the centre with Elena and Stefan on either side of him. All three were in full formal attire, crowns included, and her father was even resting his hand on a large gold scepter. It was all very over the top if you asked Elena, or a vital Mystic Falls tradition if you consulted her father.

The accused was bought up from the dungeons where he had spent the night, hands bound behind his back and flanked by two prison guards. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight and let himself be silently led to stand in front of the King.

'Lord Damon of Salvatore, you stand here before His Royal Highness King George of Mystic Falls accused of the brutal murder of thirteen of our loyal citizens. What say you?'

The town crier was all puffed up full of pomp and ceremony as he read the charges, it was so rare that he was called upon to preform duties as exciting as these. Damon blinked and looked up to address the King directly. As he did so he caught a whiff of the most intoxicating smell wafted towards him on the light summer's breeze. It reminded him of peaches, wild heather and fresh coriander but at the same time smelt of none of them. It was a perfectly unique perfume. It was her.

His head snapped to the left as he followed her scent to the source. Their eyes locked in mutual recognition and he opened his mouth to speak, all thoughts of his crimes gone from his head.

'A Princess!'

A deep chuckle resonated in his chest.

'Well, I have to say I didn't see that one coming, but it certainly explains why you've been so...difficult. Well, Your Highness...'

He stooped low into a deep formal bow and continued as he straightened:

'...rest assured that I am at your service. I'm sure I can help you overcome this little detail so we may continue uninhibited towards fulfillment.'

'Elena! Do you know this man?'

'No Father, I swear I have never met him.'

'Then why is he speaking to you in such a familiar manner?'

'I know not. Father, please, dismiss his false words. He is clearly a liar and a mad man and will soon be proven a murderer too.'

'Dear Princess, you wound me..'

'Silence! Lord Damon, how do you plead?'

'Not guilty, Your Majesty.'

'You have selected trial by sword, have you not?'

'I have, and when I triumph, let my innocence be proven by the will of the Gods and let no man question my integrity again.'

'You are right, Lord Damon, it is for the Gods to decide. Do we have a challenger to act as the Gods sword of justice? Who will defend the women of Mystic Falls?'

A short, stocky man stepped forward from the crowd and knelt before the King.

'Arise, Sir Peter of Mudhollow, and let the trial commence.'

Damon's hands were unbound as Sir Peter stripped off his jacket to reveal his bulky, muscular arms. Each man was given an identical steel broadsword. They made their abrupt, courteous bows and raised their weapons. The duel master called 'En Guard' and Damon tensed and widened his fighting stance. Sir Peter wiped away beads of sweat that had formed on his brow and at last the duel master cried out 'Fight!' and it began.

The fight had been going on for a good ten minutes. The two men seemed to be evenly matched, meeting each other blow for blow, with neither gaining the upper hand for long.

'I must admit Lord Damon has excellent form, his technique is impeccable, I'd wager he could give me a run for my money, although I'd obviously triumph in the end.'

'No doubt, my son. So would you care to make a prediction on the outcome of this trial?'

'If this were an ordinary duel, I'd put my money on Lord Damon, but I have faith in the justice of the Gods, so I know that Sir Peter will triumph despite being the marginally inferior swordsman.'

'And how do you suppose that Gods will manifest such a thing?'

'Simple, the Gods will enhance Sir Peter's stamina, Lord Damon will tire, Sir Peter will endure and deliver the God's verdict.'

Elena tuned out their conversation and turned her attention back to the fight. As far as she could see, the action was in opposition to Stefan's hypothesis. Lord Damon looked cool and relaxed, while Sir Peter was hot and seemed to be tiring. For the second time in as many minutes Sir Peter used his free hand to clear the trickles of sweat which threatened to blind him. I n his desperation, Sir Peter left an opening so obvious that even Elena, who had no combat training. could see that victory would soon belong to Damon. The crowd gasped, but Damon did not press his advantage, he simply waited for the other man to collect himself before continuing the duel. Elena was baffled, didn't he want to win?

Then she saw it, Damon was just playing with Sir Peter, as a cat plays with a cockroach before devouring its meal. The cocky bastard was just showing off. He was cool and unfazed while Sir Peter struggled for his life. Elena would have staked her life on the fact that Damon wasn't even going at full speed yet. He was infuriating, prolonging the fight, tormenting poor Sir Peter when he could have put him out of his misery long ago. Incensed, Elena sprang to her feet and strode purposefully to the edge of the box.

'Who do you think you're impressing?'

Damon looked over, eyes fully meeting with Elena's, yet still parrying Sir Peter's every thrust.

'Well, I had hoped my dazzling display of swordsmanship would make an impression on you.'

'The only impression I have is that you're a callous man who takes joy from humiliating and torturing others.'

Damon flashed her a wicked, toothy grin.

'What can I say, I'm bad, but that's why you like me.'

'No, you're wrong. I like a man who can finish the job. I like a winner. I've no time for little boys who are all bark and no bite.'

'No bite, huh? Dangerous words little girl...'

The look in Damon's eyes turned dark as he pulled his focus back to the duel. It was over in a matter of seconds, one flash of the blade and Sir Peter lay dead on the floor, head severed clean off.

'I say! Was that really necessary? I mean I know it was to the death and all, but you might have left his widow an intact body to bury.'

'My apologies, Your Highness.'

Lord Damon handed his sword back to the duel master and came to kneel before the King.'

'Where I come from a man is not considered truly dead, unless his head has been cleaved completely from his body. I just wished to make sure there was no doubting my innocence in the eyes of the Gods.'

'Right, well yes...'

'I trust I am free to take my leave now?'

'Yes. I, King George of Mystic Falls here by proclaim Lord Damon of Salvatore cleared of all charges.'

Damon rose to his feet and walk over to stand at the wall of the box where Elena remained frozen to the spot. Gently he picked up her dainty hand which had turned white from gripping the side so tightly in her rage. He bough it up to his lips and brushed a light, will o' the wisp-like kiss across her knuckles.

'Until next time, Your Highness.'

Was that a promise or a threat? Elena didn't know what to make of it. She only knew that she had never met anybody more intolerable in her life. His every word antagonized her, his actions were an outrage and his kiss made her every nerve ending fizzle and burn. So this is what it feels like to loath someone with every fiber of your being she thought. It seemed to her in that moment that Stefan was a regular Prince Charming by comparison.

* * *

Damon was waiting for the gate to open so he could cross the drawbridge and head back to Birch Manor when he found himself suddenly being pinned up against the still closed portcullis, with Prince Stefan's magenta face glowering down at him.

'Can I help you?'

'Don't get smart with me. You might have slipped one past the Gods, Damon, but I know what you are.'

'And what is that?' Damon questioned calmly.

'You're a filthy, cold-blooded killer and mark my words, if so much as the wing of a mosquito get's injured in this town again, I will find a way to prove it was you. Do you think you will be so lucky next time?'

'Luck had nothing to do with it.'

'Well, next time you will be fighting a real swordsman.'

'Oh, and that's you is it?'

'Gods damn right it is. So if I were you I'd get out of town, for good, because you're murdering days are over. If you want to enjoy the look of fear and desperation a girl gets on her face just before you strangle the life out of her, you'll have to go somewhere else.'

Damon gave a short laugh.

'Sounds like you have some experience in that department.'

'Enough. Either leave my country or stay out of my way. And keep your hands and your lips and your roving eyeballs away from my wife as well. She's mine.'

Stefan loosened his grip. Damon brushed off his lapels and casually strode through the opening gate. Just as he was nearly out of earshot, Stefan called after him,

'I'll be watching you...'


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**A/N: Warning, a short but violent chapter, it was upsetting to write so it might be upsetting to read, but it has to happen so that I can get to the Delena-related good stuff. **

**Also, it has to be acknowledged that I have felt my motivation to write slipping so thank you to those who follow/favourite or review. You brighten my day. **

* * *

Her morning had been somewhat soured by the presence of Caroline who had adamantly insisted on accompanying Elena to the temples on several occasions over the past few weeks. She unable shake the feeling that Caroline was watching her a little too closely of late, although to what end she couldn't guess. Anyway, it hardly mattered since she was doing nothing wrong, so had nothing to hide. Still, she enjoyed the small amount of privacy she obtained in The Temple of Opal. Caroline could not enter since she was not married and to do so would have caused some scandal. So Elena maintained the secrets of her prayers, as it was considered only natural that a seemingly infertile princess should entreat Opal so fervently. No one could have guessed that she was busy thanking the Goddess for her barren womb.

The last couple of weeks following Damon's trial had been blissful for Elena. Her period had come and with the flow of blood she found herself free of child and free of Stefan's nightly visits, at least for a short while, and that could only be a blessing. She wagered she was the only girl in the country who actually looked forward to her time of the month, uncomfortable as it was, at least it marked her continued freedom and allowed her the sense of a small measure of control over her life.

However, Stefan had just this morning shattered her serenity by sending her a note informing her of his intentions to resume his nightly visits to her chamber that evening. He also added that he hoped this month she would finally prove to be something other than a disappointment. So, inevitably upon the receipt of this message she immediately made her way to implore Opal to spare her once again.

With her petition delivered and little hope of shirking Caroline for more than a millisecond she resigned herself to a day of idle gossip followed by rigid endurance of Stefan's attentions.

The two girls where mounting the spiral staircase which led back to their chambers when they came across Queen Sophie seated on the window ledge, face illuminated with coloured hues as the sun's first blush shone through the stained glass panes. She was clutching a tiny white pinafore, embroidered with daisies along the hem, to her breast and weeping silently, fat tears falling slowly down her pale cheeks.

'Oh, Mummy, what's wrong? Please don't cry. Is there something I can do to make you feel better?'

Elena rushed forward to slid onto the ledge beside her mother an envelop her in a careful embrace. Caroline hovered awkwardly in the background, reluctant to lose sight of her quarry yet aware she was intruding on an intensely private moment between mother and daughter.

'Elena, honey, you were such a beautiful baby. Look, this was yours. It still smells a little like milk, talcum powder and, oh, that intoxicating small that comes off a baby's head.'

'It's very sweet Mum, but I'm all grown up now. That was a long time ago.'

'I know. It was a lifetime ago, yet it feels like yesterday to me. I can still see you, clear as day, wearing this, sitting in the long grass in North Meadow and laughing and laughing. I never knew what you were giggling about. You were always such a cheerful baby.'

'I know, those were happy times, but you can be happy again. Come...'

'No! It's all gone now. You're right, I was content for a time, but I had to make choices. Hard decisions. So many sacrifices, but I thought I was doing the right thing. I was wrong and now I have to live with it.'

'But it's not too late...'

'Yes it is. For me. But not for you. Elena, my dear, you must promise me...swear to me you will always follow your heart, no matter what, because you heart is the greatest treasure you have in this life and if it gets broken you can never truly find happiness again.'

'I promise,' Elena whispered her vow with an intensity that attempted to convey how much she meant what she said. She drew her mother back into a long hug, full of unspoken love.

'Mum? What happened to you?'

Sophie made no reply and as Elena withdrew she saw a familiar vacant look in her mother's eyes and she knew she would glean no more that day.

* * *

Elena nervously straightened her nightgown and sat bolt upright on the edge of her massive four-poster bed waiting for Stefan's imminent arrival. His visits always made her anxious, like a trip to the dentist, something she just wanted to be done with as fast as possible. He was never rough with her, neither was he tender. Their love-making was not filled with passion and fulfillment as her romance novels had suggested. It was purely perfunctory, for the purposes of procreation only. She felt like one of thousands of cans in a packing factory and Stefan played the role of the machine that was to fill her down to a T.

When Stefan finally arrived for their 'date' he had a face like thunder.

'Right, I'm here. You know the drill by now, Elena. Lie down and spread' um.'

'Wait! Stefan, are you alright? You look terrible. What happened?'

Stefan sighed, kicked off his heavy, black riding boots and slumped on the bed beside Elena. Much as she detested the man next to her, she was unable to control her natural compassion and resist the urge to give comfort to another human in pain. She gently pulled Stefan's head into her lap and began softly combing her fingers through is hair.

'We found another girl. Dead. Same thing, throat torn apart. And guess whose land it turned up on?'

'Whose?'

'Your good friend, Lord Damon's, of course,' Stefan spat venomously.

'He's not my friend and that doesn't prove anything. Anyway he was cleared by the Gods of those charges.'

'Well, you know what? Fuck the Gods! And fuck Lord Damon! That smug bastard is mocking me and he's not going to get away with it. Next time I'm going to prove it so irrefutably that no one will be arguing when I personally allow myself the satisfaction of decapitating him.'

'I'm not saying it couldn't still be him, but have you considered looking for other suspects?' Elena asked timidly in a tiny voice.

Stefan snatched himself away from her and stormed over to the other side of the room. He picked up her earthenware water jug and threw it at the wall behind her head where it smashed loudly into a thousand jagged shards. And then he was upon her. He grasped her by the shoulders and roughly yanked her to her feet.

'Just stay the fuck out of it you interfering little bitch! You have no business meddling in the running of MY kingdom, you're just a woman. You have one job and it seems you can't even do that.'

Elena was shaking with rage and fear combined. She swallowed in an effort not to cry and appear weak.

'This is only your kingdom because I made it so. You will never be loved by my people. I am the true princess of Mystic Falls,' she finally managed to raggedly breath out.

It all happened in a flash. It was the first time but it would not be the last. He raised his hand and struck her with all his force, clean across the face. The impact caused her to fall to the floor. At his feet she raised her hand to her rapidly reddening cheek and looked up at him in admonishment. He stared back at her for an infinite moment, his face unreadable. Then he turned, awkwardly collected his shoes from their haphazard resting places on her floor and left without a word.

* * *

'Oh, Stefan! Prince of my heart!' Caroline called coyly through the closed door to Stefan's chamber.

'Can I come in? I have a surprise for you...I think you're really going to like it.'

The door was abruptly jerked open to reveal Stefan's sullen countenance.

'Come to whore yourself out to me again have you, Caroline?'

'Don't be cruel, Stefan. Let me in. I can make you forget all your worries.'

'Not tonight. I don't deserve to forget.'


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. Hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think.**

* * *

The events of the previous evening had Elena down on her knees, praying for aid from the Gods yet again. She had always know that Stefan had a violent temper and a brutal hidden side to his nature, but until last night she had never been sure exactly how far he would take it. He had struck her and although she could read the remorse in his face almost immediately after, she knew in her heart of hearts it wouldn't be enough. The floodgates had been opened. He would do it again.

So she was praying, not for protection, you couldn't rely on the Gods to watch out for you at all times, but for concealment. She was asking Malam, God of Deception, to shield her from prying eyes, to let her move unseen through the night so she could complete her mission without detection. She wasn't going to wait around for Stefan to decide when he next felt like playing wife-beater, she was taking matters into her own hands.

Lofty requests completed Elena paced the room impatiently anticipating the sun's slow descent into the horizon. As the last ray of the day faded into night she hurried to her wardrobe and pulled out her plainest black gown, slipped off her night-clothes and struggled into it unaided. As a final touch she donned black gloves and covered her hair with a black shawl before surveying herself in the mirror. She was satisfied that she would blend into the dark night as much as possible, but upon discovery there was no way she would pass for a peasant, her dress was too fine and her face too well-known. It was vital that she remained out of sight.

* * *

The first part was easy, she slipped out of the castle by her usual side exit, the guard giving her his regular cursory nod and suspecting nothing out of the ordinary. The path into town was quiet and deserted, but as she reached the centre of the village she was forced to move in short burst, dashing between the shadows, in order to avoid detection by the numerous towns-folk who were still milling about.

To Elena the experience was valuable even if time was lost, because it allowed her a rare insight into the minds of her people. While flattened against the wall of a local tavern she overheard a particularly interesting exchange between two local men:

'How are Betsy and the kids faring?'

'Well as can be expected. The money we got for selling Prince Stefan our tarnoch farm is tiding us over for now, but I don't know what we're going to do when that runs out.'

'Aye, I hear that!'

'For that matter I don't know what Prince Stefan is going to do with the land now he's got it. It's all but worthless.'

'He'll come up with something, he always does. He's looked after us alright so far. Have a little faith, he'll see us through to more prosperous times, you mark my words.'

'True. He's kept this country afloat when by all rights we should have been ruined beyond repair. The man's a machine, he's tireless, never stops working, never stops trying to make things better. Best thing that ever happened to this country.'

'Don't know as I would go that far.'

'Oh?'

'Well, some of his methods are a little harsh don't you think?'

'Such as?'

'Well, there was that whole business with Lord Damon's trial... The first trial by combat ever conducted under King George's reign. The Gods spared him in his innocence so it all worked out, but was it me, or did the whole thing reek of xenophobia, personal vendettas and scapegoating?'

'You're not wrong. I was there that day. I saw it playing out. Feels like the justice system in general is moving backwards under his hand. The Rippers roaming the countryside with orders to kill outlaws on sight. It's supposed to make us feel safer, but all I can think is what happens if my son, who's living out by the East Falls, is accused of being an outlaw. He'll be cut down without a chance to defend himself, leaving his wife and four children to fend for themselves.'

'A sobering thought indeed. Aye, Prince Stefan better watch his step, he's walking a fine line between strong leader and brutal tyrant.'

* * *

However illuminating these snippets were she had a purpose that night, so as the two men turned, startled by a stray cat, Elena slipped away and hurried on. She found the path without much trouble and wound her way up Birch Hill away from the town. The track was dark, covered by a canopy of birch trees which let through only a few slivers of the pale moonlight and rustled eerily in the light summer breeze. Few people came up this way and the path was poorly maintained, almost impassible in parts, as the undergrowth fought to reclaim the land. Elena caught her skirts on a thorny bramble and in her struggle for liberation tore the hem. Still, she would not be beaten. Not even the reflection of the moonlight on a pair of large, snarling animal eyes in the bushed could frighten her enough that she would contemplate turning back. After half an hour of toil her persistence was rewarded as suddenly she broke free of the trees and the track widened into a gravel path leading up to the imposing iron gates which marked the entrance to Birch Manor.

The gate creaked and Elena laughed. It was all very Gothic horror novel she thought, the only thing that could top a spooky unoiled gate would be the appearance of a monster to chase the fair protagonist to her untimely death. Good thing this was real life then, she concluded, as she raised her fist and rapped on the front door.

* * *

Her knuckles had barely made contact with the wood before the door swung open to reveal the Lord of the Manor himself leaning casually in the entrance.

'Well, well, what a pleasant surprise. I say surprise, but what I really mean is inevitable consequence of my undeniable charm. I have to say I hadn't thought you'd give in so soon, I was rather looking forward to the chase. Never mind though. Do come in, won't you?'

He step aside and ushered her in through the hallway to a small drawing room, with a low ceiling and intimate lighting. The only seat in the room was a plush velvet loveseat for two, which he didn't hesitate to maneuver them into.

Damon reached over and pushed her shawl down onto her shoulders before gently tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear.

'So beautiful...' he murmured softly.

'Whoa! Hold it right there. Look I think you've gotten the wrong end of the stick. I didn't come here for...that...'

'You keep telling yourself that, sweetie. So amuse me, why did you _really _come here?'

'I need your help.'

'I know. That's what I've been saying from the beginning, so if you would just relax and let me help you, I'm sure I can give you what you need.'

'My Goddess! Can you just stop that for half a second, please! I'd like to get a word in edgeways here, but between you and your ego that doesn't seem to be possible.'

'The floor is yours, Princess, on my honour.'

'I want you to teach me to fight. I saw you at the trial, your good, right?'

'Damn right I'm good, that was never in doubt. A better question would be: what business does Her Royal Highness Princess Elena have with learning to fight? Why don't you just have your princely husband appoint a few extra guards to you if you're feeling threatened?'

'I want to be able to protect myself. Guards can't always protect me, nor would I want them to. I like my freedom.'

'I respect that. So why not ask Prince Stefan to instruct you? Your husband is the best swordsman in the land, or so her claims, who better to teach you?'

Elena looked away from Damon' penetrating gaze and began a quiet study of the intricately carved wooden panels on the wall opposite her. She didn't know what to say.'

'Oh, I see. He's the reason you need protection, is he? He's the one you want to defend yourself against?'

'Yes,' she answered simply.

'Hmm, well as heartwarming as your little tale of domestic abuse is...I don't see what's in it for me.'

'What do you mean? You'd be helping me..'

'Look I'm sorry to burst your bubble, mi lady, but I'm not really the altruistic type, so unless I get something out of this, you can count me out.'

Desperate situations call for desperate measures Elena thought as she drew a breath, swallowed her pride and prepared to lay her dignity on the table.

'Fine. You give me what I want and I'll give you what you want. Do we have a deal?'

'And what, pray tell, do I want?'

'You know...'

'No, I don't'

'Fine! You need me to say it? Sex. I will let you have sex with me in exchange for fighting lessons. Satisfied?'

To Elena's utter mortification Damon burst into a peal of side-splitting, belly-aching laughter.

'What is so God damn funny?'

'Nothing, it's just, this is rather a turn around. From the blushing virgin-type I met at the ball to daring strumpet, offering yourself up on a plate, bold as brass!'

'I'm no virgin. I know how this works. So, do we have a deal or not?'

'No.'

'No? What do you mean, no?'

'No. I'm not interested in exhorting sexual favours out of you. One day...one day soon...we will fuck, but it won't be under duress or part of a deal. It will be because you want it so bad that you can think of nothing else and you will come to me and beg me to touch you..'

'I highly doubt that.'

'You will, and in the mean time, I can have sex with any other woman I desire.'

'After the trial I would have thought you'd want to keep a low profile. Stefan is watching you closely and if he hears you've been raping women...well, let's just say that no amount of flashy sword skills and false bravado will save you.'

Damon gritted his teeth and Elena was astonished to see he looked angrily offended.

'I do not rape women. I have_ never_ in my long life raped a woman. I may be many things but rapist is not one of them, do you hear me?'

'Okay, okay. Calm down.'

'I can get any woman I want and they all come willingly.'

'Still, it's risky, there's always a chance they will cry rape to save face and protect their good name, or simply to get revenge when you dump them and move onto your next conquest.'

'Oh no, Princess. I have never had a complaint. I leave every woman I seduce fully satisfied. They never have anything but fond, heated memories of me.'

'Fine. You're a sex god! Whatever! Well, if you don't want sex, what do you want? Power? Money? Jewels? I can get it all, if you give me what I'm asking for.'

Damon cocked an eyebrow but let the opportunity for sexual innuendo slide for once as a more intriguing proposition occurred to him.

'I already have everything I want, everything except one thing.'

'Yes?'

'Well, you raised a good point, little princess, I need to be more careful. Stefan's spies are everywhere and he's just looking for a reason to cause trouble. I plan on staying here for a while, Mystic Falls is home and I don't want to have to leave just yet. Yes, it might pay to be a little more discrete.'

'True, but I'm not sure I understand what you're getting at.'

'Well, you know, all those bodies, with their throats torn up, not very subtle is it?'

'Yes, but you were cleared of those charges, proven innocent by the Gods.'

'The Gods have no jurisdiction over me.'

'I don't understand. Are you saying you _did _murder those women?'

'Oh, sweetie, don't look so surprised, a vampire's got to eat after all.'

If you've dreamt something up, visualized it in your mind, it never comes true. Yet despite this universally acknowledged truism, Elena watched in horror as her Gothic reverie at the gates came to life, and man turned to monster before her eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Elena had always imagined that her natural reaction to the imminent threat of death would be to scream bloody murder, yet upon discovery of her host's true nature she remained surprisingly mute. For a second she was frozen to her seat studying his new visage with abject horror coupled with perverse curiosity. The transformation was more subtle than the images she had conjured up when she was younger, huddled under the coverlet on dark nights when the wind rattled the windows in their frames, clutching the latest Gothic romance to her breast, lost in fantasy. His face hardly seemed altered. She fancied it had become a little paler, the web of veins surrounding his eyes were a little more prominent and his pupils had narrowed, serving only to intensify his glaring, predatory look. However, the only really dramatic change was the lengthening of his immaculate white canines into delicately cruel, knife-like fangs.

A man with sharp pointy teeth, storybooks had told her there was only one thing that could mean: vampires were real! She was fascinated. She longed to reach out and touch his face, to gently press a finger to a fang, to see if it was sharp enough to make her bleed and then to find out what would happen if he saw her blood. But childhood tales had not only armed her with information on things that go bump in the night, she also knew that curiosity killed the cat. And so she ran.

She dashed back into the hallway, desperately trying to remember if the exit was to the left or the right. Her dithering cost her precious seconds and he easily caught up with her, placing himself on her right, between her and what she belatedly recognized to be the front door.

'Elena! Stop!' he demanded, but she was off again, with no choice but to turn left. She raced along the corridor until she reached the foot of an imposingly grand staircase. She had no time to admire it as she took the stairs two at a time in an effort to put some distance between herself and her pursuer. Her heart was beating loudly in her ears, so she had no idea how close he was behind her as she selected a door at random and locked herself inside.

She panted breathlessly and tried to gather her wits. She listened carefully but could not hear a sound, not the creaking of the floorboards nor the soft padding of feet on the stair runner. She told herself to remain calm and think logically. She was not going to be one of those foolish, helpless maidens who spend so long questioning what, how and why that they forget to fight back. No, she knew what he was and at the moment the back-story didn't much interest her. She did briefly wonder why he had not caught up with her yet. From what she knew about vampires they had super strength and speed, yet here she was, one step ahead. Or perhaps he was simply toying with her, he had mentioned that he enjoyed the chase. She pushed these thoughts aside and tried to recall everything she had ever read about vampires, specifically how to kill them. They couldn't tolerate sunlight, but it was night, plus she had seen Damon walking in direct sunlight at his trial, so that was clearly no use. They didn't like garlic, silver or religious artifacts. Well, she had none of those. Where was her silver tiara, the one time when it might actually have been useful, she thought despairingly.

That only left decapitation and a wooden stake to the heart. She cast her eyes around the bedroom she had locked herself into. It was simply furnished with a grandiose chaise-long covered with a green woolen blanket, a matching green velvet easy-chair by the hearth and a spartan wooden table and chair by the window. No handy sword lying around then, she quipped internally. She rushed over to the fireplace hoping some over-enthused servant had built fire or left some wood lying around, but all she found was a pail of char crystals. The irony of being thwarted by modernization yet again was not lost on her. She went over to the window and tried in vain to open it in hopes of making some kind of daring escape, but it was stuck fast. Then her gaze fell on the spindly little wooden table and chair and a plan began to formulate in her mind.

Several minutes later, with beads of sweat running down her face and her heart beating as fast as a hummingbird's wings, Elena clutched her hard-won prize in her hands. She was forced to conclude that breaking off a chair leg was not as easy as the books made it sound. Still, she had managed it and now she had a stake, of sorts. And not a moment too soon.

'Elena...' Damon's voice sing-songed though the door, 'I know you're in there, I can smell you. There's no way to escape, so you might as well come out.'

'Not a chance, Damon.'

'Look, I hate to make a scene, but I will break down this door if I have to.'

'I think you should know that I know what you are and I know how to kill you. I'm armed and I won't hesitate to end you if I have to.'

'Oh really! Elena, this is my house and I know there is nothing in that room that you could kill me with.'

'That's what you think.'

'Come on now, Elena, be sensible, you wouldn't stand a chance against me. Anyway, what about our deal? Come out and we can talk about it.'

'The deal's off. You don't seriously think I would willingly agree to add to your body count, do you? I think I'll take my chances with Stefan if it's all the same to you.'

'Now look, don't be so hasty, you haven't even heard my terms yet.'

'I think I get the general idea.'

Damon let out a deep rumble of frustration.

'Stand away from the door, I'm coming in, then we can talk about this face to face.'

There was a loud crack as Damon's foot connected with the solid oak door. The lock gave way on his first attempt and the door flew open, splinters of wood flying in all directions. Damon looked wildly around the room, but there was no sign of her. It was impossible, but it seemed to him that she had vanished into thin air. He whirled back in confusion to face the entrance and then her saw her. It was the oldest trick in the book. She had been hiding by the door frame, so he had burst right past her in his impatience to get into the room.

He expected her to run, so it was momentarily disorienting when instead he saw her coming towards him purposefully. She used his shocked stupefaction to her advantage. She raised her makeshift stake and with violent intent rammed it into his heart with all the force she could muster.

She didn't know what she had been expecting; him to poof into a cloud of dust, or turn to stone or a messy pile of blood and guts, but nothing was definitely not on her list. She raised her eyebrow in irritation as he simply stood there gasping like a fish out of water with a wooden chair leg sticking out of his chest. She thought perhaps she had missed the heart, and that was why it hadn't worked. So with both hands she grasped the end of her stake and yanked it back out again. She glanced with morbid curiosity into the cavernous hole she had created in his torso and was amazed to find she could see it. His heart. It was definitely his heart, she recognized it from anatomy class, it looked like a strawberry that had been bloodied and bruised. She could see the four chambers, ventricle and atrium, that should be contracting, but in this man were dormant, because this man was already dead. So she felt no remorse as she took up her stake again and with a calm surety plunged it straight though his exposed heart.

This time he fell to the floor and then he was still and silent. She didn't wait around to find out what really happens to vampires when they meet their true end. She ran home like the hounds of hell were chasing her, because at that moment, she couldn't be certain they weren't.

* * *

**A/N: Dun, dun, duuuun! Too much? Let me know what you think.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**A/N: Sorry it's been so long since I updated. I just started my first job in the USA and I was busy getting settled in. Hope it was worth the wait. Let me know what you think.**

* * *

Damon opened his eyes with deliberate care. He knew from experience that easing yourself back into consciousness as smoothly as possible was the best way to avoid causing any additional, unnecessary pain. It hurt quiet enough as it was. She had been really determined to give him a proper good staking, he thought as he calmly drew the chair leg out of his chest. And boy had she succeeded. Not so much with her intent to kill him, although he had to give her points for knowing her vampire lore and applying it in a pinch, but he definitely hadn't been staked that thoroughly in at least fifty years. Elena might be a princess but she had certainly proved she was no priss.

Damon gingerly sat himself up and looked down at his torso to survey the damage. Well, that was just peachy, where he usually kept his heart he now had a nice collection of shredded muscles and leaky blood vessels. On top of that the little chit had somehow managed to exert enough force to break two of his ribs, this was going to be a right bitch to fix.

Painstakingly, he began to move about the manor, gathering together the supplies he required for his operation. It was at times like these when he really wished he kept a least one servant, but privacy was too valuable to a man of his controversial condition. At last he reached the grand dining room, arms laden with supplies, and sat down heavily at the head of the table. The room was vast with a high ceiling and a long polished mahogany dining table with seats enough for forty guests surrounding it. The windows were blocked by heavy drapes and the overall effect in the room was one of gloomy solitude. Damon withdrew the stopper from a crystal decanter full of amber liquid, tossed it impatiently aside, and took a long deep swig directly from the bottle. Anesthesia in place he picked up the needle and thread and began the arduous task of sewing his heart back together.

* * *

Elena rolled over for what seemed like the millionth time that night. She flipped her pillow and rested her cheek on the cool side as she tried to settle into a comfortable sleeping position. She hadn't slept in nearly 48 hours, yet she couldn't shake this nagging feeling that he was still out there, watching her, long enough to get some kip. She knew it was ridiculous, she had staked him, twice, and the second time she was sure it had taken. The first thing she had done once she had managed to calm her pounding heartbeat within the relative safety of her own room was to reach for her well-thumbed copy of _The Dark Prince. _It confirmed, as she had suspected, that the proper way to kill a vampire was a wooden stake to the heart. She should have been relieved, but instead she felt uneasy. She wasn't sure what would happen now. Would they find a body? Would they know it was she who killed him? Should she tell someone? How would she explain it?

She knew she had done the only thing she could have, she had protected herself and staked him in self-defense. After all, he had admitted to killing those women and then he chased her. If she had not struck first, surely she would now be dead. The world was better off now there was one less killer on the loose, but still she felt guilty. She was as bad as Stefan, she thought, taking the law into her own hands, dealing out justice without a trial, as it suited her. The whole ordeal had made her feel icky and uncomfortable. What she needed was a good nights sleep and she was sure she would gain some perspective on the matter in the morning.

Eventually exhaustion prevailed and she fell into a deep sleep, for a time, however a full night of restorative slumber was not on the cards for her.

* * *

Slipping past the castle guards had been so laughably simple that Damon wondered why they even bothered with security. It had taken him less than five minutes to scale the outer walls, cross the moat and climb over the inner wall into the vulnerable heart of the castle. It had taken him less than two minutes to locate the bedroom of the Princess, the King of the realm's only child, without raising any alarm. As he stood in the shadows looking through her open balcony window and gazed upon the even rise and fall of her breath and the look of peaceful oblivion on her face, illuminated by the moonlight, he thought that he would take far greater care of such a treasure if she were his.

And so she would be. It was in that moment that Damon realized he had officially set his cap at Princess Elena. He had to admit she was irrefutably fair and oddly intriguing. It had been a long time since he had met someone who kept him guessing, he could usually anticipate a person's every move. She had bewitched him with her beauty, her brains, her strength and determination.

But mostly he had to admit, it was because she had refused him. That never happened. They never said no to him. He loved a challenge. He could not wait to see that delicious look of reluctant resignation on her face as she was forced to give in to her baser desires and succumb to her passion for him. It was inevitable whether she knew it or not. First he would have her blood and then the rest would follow. It was time to get this show on the road.

Softly he pushed the french windows fully open and stepped silently across the room. He sat down on the bed next to her sleeping form. She stirred slightly but did not wake so cautiously he reached over and tenderly stroked her flushed cheek. She murmured sleepy babblings before resting peacefully again. Damon was beginning to get rather exasperated with her. Did she not realise that a dangerous killer was currently looming over her? Even in slumber she could not show him even a smidgen of fear and respect. She hadn't even screamed when he had fanged out in front of her. That had been a blow to his pride, not that he had penis issues or anything! No, he was all vamp and she was about to find out exactly how bad he could be. Time for a little revenge...

* * *

She awoke with a start in the throes of the most excruciating torture know to man-kind. Somebody, some monstrous, evil being, had snuck into her room in the darkest hour of the night and was tickling her ribs without mercy. She laughed, she splutter, she snorted as she wriggled helplessly in an effort to get away. To no avail. When she got to the point where she was laughing silently in her gut and struggling to breathe the intruder relented and stopped as abruptly as he had begun. Only then did she open her eyes to reveal the face of her mystery assailant. This time she did scream. His hand clamped down tightly over her mouth before any sound could escape.

'I'm going to take my hand away, but if you scream again I _will _gag you. I just want to talk, I'm not here to hurt you. If I wanted to kill you I would have gone with biting rather than tickling, generally I find it much more effective.'

He slowly withdrew his hand. Immediately she sat up and scuttled to the far side of the bed, away from him, but she did not make a sound. They regarded each other mutely for several minutes. He didn't quiet know how to start a conversation with the woman who tried to murder him just 48 hours ago. Finally, she broke the silence and stuttered out,

'But...how?'

'I can assume from your weapon choice that you have correctly concluded that I am indeed a vampire, however it takes more than a little poke in the chest with the leg of a chair to kill my kind. You've been reading too many fairytales.'

'So if a stake to the heart didn't kill you, why didn't you come after me right away?'

'It take a lot to kill a vampire, but we take damage much the same as anyone else. I had a slight case of unconsciousness and then I was busy sewing myself up. Why? Did you miss me?'

'So the generally accepted wisdom on vampires is all a bunch of poppycock? Just tales to help the kiddies sleep at night?'

'I'm afraid so.'

'So you're not afraid of garlic?'

'Only before a big date.'

'Silver?'

'No, I look good in everything.'

'Religious artifacts or temples?'

'I told you before, I'm beyond the reach of the Gods.'

'Well, since I've seen you in broad daylight I can safely assume that is another myth.'

'Ah, no. Not quiet. I am, how shall I say, extremely intolerant of direct sunlight. I avoid it as much as possible. Dayburn is very nasty and takes ages to heal. But no, it's more of a char-grilled effect than a full on burst into flames thing.'

'Then how did you manage at the trial?'

'There was a fair amount of cloud cover that day, one of the reasons Mystic Falls suits me so well, great climate for vamps. Plus, I snagged a bottle of sun ointment from my house before I left. That always helps.'

'Sun ointment!'

'What? It works just as well on me as on you, just not for as long. Good job the fight was so easy, nice quick trial, then back inside before the sizzling and blackening begins and nobody's any the wiser.'

'Okay. So you're pretty impervious to most things and your immortal right? So how come the world is not over run with your kind? There must be some way of killing you, right?'

'Only two ways that I know about. Decapitation and burning to dust. Although, I did hear about this one vamp who got decapitated, then his girlfriend sewed his head back on and a few days later he was good as new. As for setting me on fire, I doubt it would burn long enough to kill me. I've had years to perfect the stop, drop and roll. Nah, I reckon the only sure fire way to get rid of a vamp, permanently, is to decapitate them and then burn the body and the head.'

'Right. Thanks for the tips. I'll bare that in mind for next time.'

'There won't be a next time. You caught me off guard once, I'll admit, I wasn't expecting you to put up a fight, but I've got your number now and you won't pull one over on me again.'

'Plus, you have all that super speed and strength and heightened senses, right?'

'In a way. I didn't come into being as a vamp with any skills I didn't already posses as a human, apart from a better sense of smell, you need that to sniff out the good blood.'

'Ewww...'

'Oh, what? Suddenly you're little miss dainty?'

'No, but still, it's icky, but I can take it. Continue.'

'It's simple. I've had over two centuries to hone my skills. I've practiced and I've learnt and I've worked bloody hard to be the fastest, the sharpest and the best fighter I can be, and after all theses years of work, next to the ordinary man, I do seem pretty fucking spectacular.'

'Alright, supervamp, I get it, you're the char crystal to our tarnoch root. So what do you want? Like you said, you could probably kill me in a flash, so why don't you get on with it.'

'Like I was trying to explain to you before you so rudely shoved a wooden stick into my chest, I think my original proposal could be mutually beneficial.'

'Yeah, no, I just don't see it that way. Either you kill me and then teach my decomposing corpse to fight or you give me the tools with which to kick your ass when you come to murder me. So, mutually beneficial isn't the way I would describe it.'

'No, no, you've got it all wrong. I don't want to kill you, I just want to bite you and drink your blood.'

'And that's different how?'

'Please, give me some credit, I have some self-control.'

'I have seen no evidence of this thus far.'

'I'm wounded. Don't you trust me?'

'I don't make a habit of trusting serial killers who sexually harass me.'

'Oh, come on, what's a few dead bodies and a little light flirtation between friends?'

'We are not friends.'

'Fine. If you won't trust me, I have some iron shackles and chains back at my place...'

'Oh, Goddess! Are we back to this again? Pervert! I can tell you right now, that is _never_ going to happen.'

'Not what I mean, but I like the way your mind works. I didn't know princesses were so kinky... I meant you can tie me up while I drink from you, that way you can control when I stop.'

'Yeah, tempting as that little vignette you just painting sounds, I'm going to have to pass. I don't make deals with murderers.'

'Just think about it, Princess. I have the feeling you're going to need my help with that charming husband of yours.'

With that he was gone, out the window in a blink of an eye, leaving only the muslin drapes flapping lightly in his wake.

Elena turned his offer over in her mind and was surprised to find herself seriously considering it. Extremely surprised. She should have asked him about glamoring. Could real vampires do that? That could be the only explanation for her worrisome contemplations, right?


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**A/N: I can hardly wait until TVD starts up again. The closer it gets, the harder the wait. So I managed to squeeze in a little writing to help tide me over. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Caroline took a step to the left. She now stood in the middle of a small slither of light created by the sinking sun as it illuminated a patch of the West Corridor. Her mother, who loved to spin a yarn, told a tale in which the God's used the power of the setting sun to impart wisdom on any who stood within the soft evening rays. As she stood in the fading light, motes of dust swirling gently around her, she could almost believe the story was true. The sight of Stefan, striding angrily in her direction, made her think she was going to imminently require that divine insight.

'You've been avoiding me, Caroline. I've been feeling all neglected lately.'

'I'm sorry,' Caroline stammered nervously, 'I haven't been able to get away.'

'Well, we're both here now...give the crown jewels a good polishing and all will be forgiven.'

Stefan gave her a lecherous wink which left her in no doubt as to his meaning. Caroline was relieved she had expected to endure his wrath, but his lust was much easier to handle. She was following him down the corridor in the direction of his bed chambers when he stopped abruptly and spun around to face her.

'Oh, yes, before I forget, give me the latest report on my wife. It's been a good few weeks since we last spoke, she must have been up to all kinds of deviance since then.'

'No. I'm happy to report she's stopped her late night wanderings and has been keeping to the castle, excepting her daily visits to the temples. She goes to the temple of Opal to pray for an heir. A model wife.'

'What! You can't be serious, I know that little strumpet, she's always up to no good. You must be mistaken.'

'No, Stefan, I promise, it's true...'

'You useless tart. You're a fucking waste of space. I don't even know why I put up with you...'

* * *

Elena felt like she had been walking around in a trance for the past couple of weeks, like a mindless zombie, just following the basic needs of her body but otherwise checked out from life. Zombies. She prayed to the Gods they weren't real as well, but after all she had learnt, there was no way she could be sure. The only thing she knew for certain was that vampires were very real, more invincible than humans had even imagined and she currently had one such individual propositioning her for her blood. She wanted so badly to tell someone, to get help and advice, but who would she tell? Her father? Caroline? Stefan? Not one of them would believe her. More importantly telling someone put them in danger as well, and she couldn't live with herself if a loved one got hurt because of her. Her only hope would be to convince the whole kingdom simultaneously. A whole kingdom against one vampire, that seemed like fairly doable odds. But what if there were more vampires than just Damon in Mystic Falls? Anyway, who was she kidding, she didn't have a hope in hell of persuading the entire realm that fairy-tales were true stories and monsters were real. She'd have more success joining The Cult of Computology and trying to convince the kingdom that human's were on the cusp on inventing a machine through which information could be shared by people across the globe.

Lost in contemplations she rounded the corner and turned onto the West Corridor. At the other end of the hallway she saw Caroline and Stefan deep in conversation, both oblivious to her presence. As she drew nearer she observed a familiar look of rage on her husband's face as he advanced on a terrified Caroline forcing her to cower back against the wall. Elena picked up her pace and advanced on the pair in time to hear the end of their exchange.

'No, Stefan, I promise, it's true...'

Caroline's voice wavered with fear and her whole body was shaking. Elena knew what was coming next, so she started to run towards them.

'You useless tart. You're a fucking waste of space. I don't even know why I put up with you...'

Elena was only a few yards away when she saw Stefan's hand coming up. She was appalled. She had thought she was the only victim of his out of control temper tantrums. She was running at full speed now, but it was too late. Stefan's hand came down and he struck Caroline hard across her cheek. Her head hit the wall with a sickening crack and she slumpt to the floor from the force of the impact. Stefan looked down at her crumpled form and swung back his foot in preparation to kick. Going full tilt Elena threw herself into Stefan's side in an attempt to knock him aside. She was thinking only of the damage Stefan could do to Caroline's internal organs with his well-aimed steel-capped boot. What she would have done had Stefan turned his ire on her is anyone's guess. However, despite a running start and the use of her full adrenaline-fueled strength the impact which knocked her to the ground barely seemed to register with Stefan. It was like running into a wall of solid muscle.

'Elena! What is wrong with you? Throwing yourself about like that, no wonder you can't even accomplish the simple task of getting pregnant when you behave like this. I would like my wife to show a little more deportment. Now, help Caroline. She fell down. I have important matters to attend to.'

Stefan turned up his nose and haughtily swept away leaving the two ladies on the ground to their infinite relief.

'Caroline, are you alright?' Elena questioned as she helped her friend to her feet.

'Oh...yes...fine...just a little bump...nothing to worry about,' Caroline answered in a vacant voice.

'I'm so sorry, Caro. He won't get away with this. Come on!'

* * *

Caroline gave herself over to Elena's guardianship and let herself be dragged, like a little girl's rag doll, down the passageway. Her mind felt big and numb. She was half aware she had entered a room that was not her own and that a heated conversation was being conducted in front of her, but it was not until the king addressed her directly that she snapped back to reality.

'I beg your pardon, Your Highness, please, could you repeat the question?'

'Is this true Caroline? Did Prince Stefan really strike you?'

'What! No, no! You've got it all wrong. I fell down and bumped my head. That's all. Prince Stefan was trying to help me up when Princess Elena came along.'

'Caroline! That's not true! I was at the other end of the corridor, I saw the whole thing. He was about to kick you in the stomach when I stopped him.'

'No, Your Highness, she's lying, please believe me. I will not allow her to besmirch the good name of this kingdom's greatest warrior.'

Caroline addressed the king and was unable to look Elena in the eye.

'Elena, my child, I have always instilled in you the value of honesty, why would you falsely accuse your own husband, our realm's greatest asset, in this manner?'

'Father, I speak the truth. He has struck me before as well. I thought I could handle it, but now I know I am not the only victim, I cannot hold my tongue. Not even in for the sake of Mystic Falls.'

'Elena, why do you persist with these heinous fallacies when even your own lady-in-waiting will not confirm your accusations?'

'Sire, if I might..'

'Please, Lady Caroline, speak.'

'Perhaps. Princess Elena is not lying. She has been very tired lately, the strain of trying to produce a much longed for heir is taking its toll. Exhaustion can play powerful tricks on the mind.'

'Ah, how well I know the truth of that statement, Lady Caroline. Just so...and women have a much more fragile nature. A few weeks of bed rest and good food should set you to rights again, my daughter.'

'But Father...'

'No, Elena, not another word. Let us forget this whole sorry matter. I don't want to hear anymore about it. Now, you are ordered by the king and by you father to rest.'

'Yes, Father,' Elena bowed her head in resignation.

* * *

Later that night Elena lay in her bed, stewing in her own resentment. She had no idea what Caroline's game was, but she felt she could no longer trust her. If Caroline didn't want to save herself, that was her business, but Elena had no such death wish. She knew what she had to do. The first truly selfish thing she had ever done. They say go big or go home, and what is bigger than colluding with a known murderer to serve your own agenda. She climbed silently out of bed and hastily dressed herself in her most sturdy gown, although to be honest anything made of silk is not known for its durability. Then, she locked her chamber door from the inside and, after a momentary pang of regret, she locked the door which lead to Caroline's adjoining room. She opened the french windows, walked out onto the balcony and looked down. She spotted an ivy covered trellis that crept all the way up the wall on the right side of the balcony. That must have been how he did it she concluded. If he managed it so could she, after all he had admitted that he didn't have super powers, she reassured herself. Still, she was three stories up and the ground looked a long way off. She gulped as she threw her legs over the balcony railings. Her final thought before she leapt was that at least if she arrived all broken and cut she could avoid that whole painful sounding biting thing and get straight to the blood sucking.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

As it turned out blindly jumping off her balcony railings wasn't the hard part. She caught hold of the wooden trellis with relative ease, but making her way down to the ground was slow going. Finding each foothold required a five minute search party, the ivy was slick from the afternoon rain and her dress kept catching and tearing on the nails which attached the trellis to the wall. To top it all off when victory was within her grasp and she was just a few metres from feeling her feet back on solid ground, her leg got tangled up in the hem of her dress and she slipped, landing in a very undignified, unprincess-like heap in the damp earth. Floor length silk gowns were not ideal in terms of climbing apparel she concluded as she picked herself up and dusted herself down. She could only be grateful that nobody had been around to witness her literally falling arse over tit.

With a hasty request to Malam to shield her from prying eyes she raced across town and up the overgrown path to Birch Manor. Despite taking less care this time she was fairly certain she had not been seen and she reached the pretentiously intimidating front door in half the time. She pounded upon it with confident impatience wondering why she did not feel particularly scared when calling on a serial killer in the dead of night.

'Well, I'm glad I didn't dress up for out date. What happened? The wicked step-sisters make you prune the rose garden, Cinderella?'

Elena glanced down at herself and noticed with shame that her gown was shredded and covered in dirt and her arms were littered with tiny, superficial scratches.

'This is not a date, it's a business transaction so how I look is none of your concern.'

'So, you've finally come round to my way of thinking have you? Took you long enough.'

'You can wipe that smug, self-satisfied look off your face this instance. Let's just get a few things clear. I do not like you. I will _never _like you. I have no interest in getting to know you or engaging in any form of conversation with you, particularly your ridiculous flirtations. This is an exchange of services to be provided in a professional manner. There will be no need for your lewd remarks. If you stick strictly to informative instruction during out fighting lessons then I, in turn, will promise to keep my mouth shut so as not to disrupt your 'meal'.'

'But Princess, you forget, I love it when they scream,' Damon countered with a ludicrously over-exaggerated wink.

'Ug! You're impossible.'

'But I'm all you've got, so you better start getting used to me just as I am because that's the only way your going to get me.'

'Fine! Let's just get this over with.'

She flounced past him,uninvited, into his entrance way and then turned uncertainly to face him.

'So...how should we begin... you know...I mean...' she trailed off.

'We begin, my dainty princess, with a little taste to get the juices flowing. Follow me. My bedroom is this way.'

* * *

Damon's bedchambers were exactly as she had expected: dark mahogany four-poster bed, heavy crimson drapery, thick Persian rugs on top of the cold, flagstone floor and an ambient gloom provided by half-shuttered char crystal lanterns dotted around the room. The room was all show and no tell. Another facet of the carefully put together facade Damon presented to the world, devoid of genuine personality, revealing nothing of the true substance within.

Damon walked over to the foot of the bed and lifted the lid of an ornately carved mahogany chest. Elena followed behind looking curiously over his shoulder as he began to rummage. Inside the chest she caught a glimpse of the 3D version of Lord Damon of Salvatore. She spied a wooden toy pirate ship, a half full decanter of whiskey, a badly beaten box containing the boardgame Wordsmith, a bundle of papers covered in illegible scrawl, a bottle of Aragan massage oil and a picture. It was a dog-eared copy of Molenta's _Fiery Fiends and Free Souls. _It showed the twisted, deformed Fiends of The Below, chained to the ground and eternally burning, reaching in vain for the clear, cooling waters of The Beyond. Why a vampire who claimed he was past the reach of the Gods should posses and clearly treasure such a painting was a mystery to her. Vampire's never died, so they were never chosen for either The Below or The Beyond. So what was it about this picture that had struck a chord with Damon she wondered. She turned it over, hoping to find an inscription that could shed some light on the matter. It was not writing that she found on the back, but another paper, smaller in both width and length and torn on all sides. It had somehow become attached to the back of the painting. Carefully, she pealed the two papers apart and discovered the culprit, a wad of maple gum in the centre of the smaller picture. Disgusted, Elena made a mental note to suggest Damon hire himself a housekeeper. Stealing herself she picked off the gum and with silent hysteria hastily flicked it to the other side of the room. She decided it had been worth the brief moment of ick almost immediately. The full picture had clearly been torn to pieces and this was what was left: the head of a stunning young woman in a decadent hat adorned with a mass of feathers. She was missing her chin, one ear and half her hat but it was enough to give Elena a strong impression of her beauty. She could vividly imagine Damon ripping the picture to shreds in a storm of passion only to later rescue the head as he lay weeping with it clutched to his chest. It had to be a romance, nothing else could drive a man to such extremes. She felt the primal urge to gossip rising inside of her and she had to know more.

'Damon? Who is this lady?'

He glanced briefly at the picture she thrust in front of his face.

'Huh? Wait! Where did you get that?'

He snatched the image from her out stretched hands, shoved it in the chest and slammed down the lid.

'That's none of your concern.'

'True. I was simply curious.'

'Well, it's personal, so mind your own business.'

'I thought you wanted this to be personal, not just a businesses arrangement.'

'Fine. Her name was Katherine. I knew her a long time ago. She's dead. End of story.'

'Did you love her?'

'You've already drawn your own conclusions about that, now haven't you? Believe me, any fantasies you've dreamed up will be better than the tedious reality. So let's not ruin it with the boring formality of the truth.'

'But...'

'Nuh-uh, enough with that now. Let's get down to it,' he silenced her with a wicked grin, a pair of heavy shackles joint together by a thick iron chain dangling from his finger.

* * *

'Are you sure this will hold you?' she asked surveying him skeptically.

He was sitting with his hands in the shackles embracing one of the bedposts in some kind of S&M bear hug. If he was being honest it wasn't the most effective way of tying him up as it left him with a relatively large range of motion, but she had been so cute and bossy that he hadn't the heart to tell her she was doing it wrong. Besides, whether she believed it or not, he could control himself.

'Look, the key is on the other side of the room and I've tried, using my full strength to break both the bedpost and the chain, to no avail. At a certain point your just going to have to trust me.'

'Well excuse me if I find it hard to trust a murderer.'

'Will you give the murderer bit a rest already? You'd be hard pressed to find a single man in the whole of your precious Mystic Falls who hasn't killed at least one person in their time.'

'Perhaps, but at least they don't enjoy it.'

'I wouldn't be so sure.'

'Oh, let's just get on with this.'

Elena clambered onto the bed in front of him, pushed up her sleeve, and abruptly shoved her wrist under his nose.

'What am I going to do with that?'

'Awww, Damon, what's the matter? Have you got a little performance anxiety? Come on! Man up! It's dinner time!'

'I'm more of a neck man, Princess, so if you could just unbutton your collar and scootch a little closer...'

'Oh no! The wrist has a slower blood flow and is easier to pull away from, so more control for me, which is just the way I like it. So it's wrist or nothing, you decide.'

Damon was disappointed but not surprised. He inhaled the scent of her skin: ivy and earth followed by lavender soap and underneath it all the smell that was uniquely her, of peaches, wild heather and coriander. He could sense the blood flowing through her arteries just below the surface of her fragile skin. She had him over a barrel and there was no way he was saying no now, no matter the terms. Still, it wasn't wise to let her know how eager he really was.

'Ok, fine. I'll drink from your wrist, for now. I'll give you some time, prove to you that I can be trusted. In the mean time I'll teach you some holds, throws, kicks and hits, basic hand-to-hand fighting skills, but if you want to learn how to use a weapon, you're going to have to give me some neck.'

'Let's just cross that bridge when we come to it. Just bite me already will you!'

He chuckled lightly and took hold of her arm. He pressed down firmly with two fingers next to the delicate bones of her wrist.

'Hey, what are you doing?'

'Relax Princess, I'm just finding your artery.'

'Why? Don't you know where to bite? I thought you were like a billion years old, don't you know how to do this already? I hope I haven't been saddled with an incompetent vampire for my first time.'

'You really go straight for the balls, don't you? I know where to bite, I just wanted to make sure I was being really accurate in order to cause the least amount of pain and damage possible. But if you'd rather I just cut you arm to ribbons, then by all means...'

'No. I'm just...nervous, I guess.'

'Try not to worry..Elena..I'm not out to hurt you. As you said, I've had a lot of practice and I know how to be gentle when I want to be,' he spoke softly now and looked her straight in the eye, trying to convey his sincerity.

It seemed to work because she took a deep breath, closed her eyes and let the tension release from her body. He took that as a sign to continue.

Pulse point located he bought his mouth down to her wrist and began to gently suck at the spot, bringing the blood to the surface of her skin. He noticed with satisfaction a deep blush spreading across her cheeks in response to his actions, but she didn't make a sound. He continued for a few seconds before moving his mouth away, fanging out and biting down without warning. He hoped it was the shock of the attack that caused her to give a little yelp of pain, but he knew in reality the initial bite always smarted. However, he also knew that the sting would soon be over and replaced by a much more pleasurable sensation. So he began to drink. He drew in a deep mouthful of her blood, overwhelmed by the need to finally know what she tasted like. As soon as her blood hit his taste buds he dropped her arm and withdrew his fangs. She opened her eyes and looked at him, startled at his quick finish.

'What's wrong? Is that it? Are you full already?'

'Ah, my foolish little Princess, did you think you could get away with it that easily?'

'Get away with what?'

'You can't withhold the truth from me. Blood never lies.'

'What truth?'

'Stop playing dumb. The gig is up. It's time to confess.'

'Confess what?'

'Come on Princess, tell me what you really are.'

* * *

**A/N: What do you think? Is it love at first bite? Let me know.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

She should have known better than to expect good table manners from a vampire, but still Elena was surprised that he wanted to joke around during his dinner. This was not turning out even vaguely how she had imagined it. She had mapped out two possible scenarios in her head before coming to Birch Manor. Scenario one involved her writhing in pain from his bite before he eventually lost control, somehow got free from his restraints, tore her throat out and bathed in her blood. Scenario two, well, she was mortified just thinking about it, but let's just say it involved a lot of lusty moaning and pleasure-filled sighs. Elena didn't know which version would have been worse but since neither appeared to be playing out she guessed she wouldn't have to worry about it. It seemed that Damon was the type of vampire who liked to talk with his mouth full.

'Ha-bloody-ha, Damon. I get it. It's annoying being stuck with a label. How about we agree, I'll stop harping on about your mass murdering tendencies and you can drop the princess and call me Elena. We are going to be spending a whole bunch of time together, might as well try to make it tolerable, right?'

Now it was Damon's turn to look confused. He raised a quizzical eyebrow and tilted his head to one side.

'Come again?'

'That's your point right? I taste special because I'm a princess, royal blood and all that.'

'Right! Well, I think I need another taste now I'm over the shock. I'd better get used to dining like a king. Oh, Fair Princess Elena, your blood has ruined me for all other women. How ever will I go back to eating common folk after tasting the likes of you?'

Elena only rolled her eyes in response and lightly shook her wrist at him in signal that he should continue.

* * *

Damon drank slowly, lazily pulling her blood into his mouth, savouring the taste as he contemplated the latest turn of events. If Elena thought she was his first royal then she was sadly mistaken. Happy memories flashed before his eyes: the sweet and spicy Sultan's daughter, the scrappy little Tsarina who fought him till her last breath and the stoic-faced young wife of the Great Elder of the Frozen Waste who seemed rather relieved to be put out of her misery. Each of them was different, all of them were delicious, but not one of them could hold a candle to the sweet elixir that was currently flowing down his throat. In his experience all blood was more or less equal regardless of origin. From the fairest queen to the lowliest beggar girl he had tasted it all. Of course every girl had her own subtle nuances and flavour combinations, that's what kept it interesting. Once, back in his youth, a hundred years or so ago, during The Dark Endemic, he had deliberately sought out a sick girl. To his sensitive nose she smelt of rotting death, every particle of his being was screaming at him to stay away from her, but he forced those feelings down. If it were possible she tasted worse than she smelt and although he was only sampled a mouthful of her blood he was ill for over a week. So, he had tasted the worst thing in this world and every shade of ordinary in the middle and now finally at the ripe old age of 263 he had found the best. If asked, he could not have said what it was that set her blood apart. He only knew that he had finally found something worth living for. He had waited, wandering the world for centuries, searching for something, a reason, a purpose and now he had finally found it. Well, maybe that was a little dramatic Damon mused to himself, but he knew one thing for sure: he wanted more, and he'd do almost anything to ensure he got it.

However, the question of why her blood tasted like the ambrosia of the Gods still remained. He was sure that being a princess had nothing to do with it. He was also fairly certain that Elena herself had no idea she was different, so it was useless to question her further. He had encountered a fair few mystical beasties and beings in this time and she matched up with none of them. Well, he would drop it for now and go with her blue blood explanation, but this certainly warranted further investigation.

* * *

He withdrew his fangs once more and began lapping up the little droplets of blood that collected on her puncture marks like an over-sized puppy. Elena wrinkled her nose in disgust.

'I know you enjoyed it really, there's no shame in admitting it,' he released her wrist, satisfied the wound had closed, 'even a princess likes a little rough and tumble now and again.'

'It was certainly more tolerable than I had anticipated,' she asserted primly.

'Well, then I think this arrangement is going to work out very well for both of us.'

'I agree, as long as you accept my terms.'

'Hold on! What terms? I thought we'd agreed. Tit for tat.'

'Well, that was before and this is now. In light of recent developments I have reassessed my market worth and I feel I'm being undervalued.'

'Oh, is that right?'

'Yes. Royal blood is worth more. You said it yourself, I taste different, better, and since royal blood is much rarer, I'm upping my demands.'

Damon groaned, he'd gone and shot himself in the foot big time on this one. Although he had to admire her spirit, he had the feeling he wasn't going to like what came next.

'This is my offer, take it or leave it: I will let you feed off me, wrist only, every other night. You in exchange will teach me everything you know about fighting, with and without weapons, on the alternate nights. In addition, you will feed off nobody else, nor will your harm another person. Do you accept?'

'Yes.'

'What! Is that it?'

'Bloody hell, now you're upset that I agreed. I can't win.'

'No, it's just I expected you to be more upset. I mean, you understand, that means no killing, no biting, not even a little nip of anyone other than me, right?'

'I think I can live with that,' he said almost tenderly before quickly recovering himself, 'I mean, I've got a body count so high that a few months off wont harm.'

'Well, just know that this is a small town and the moment I get wind of anymore attacks, the deal is off.'

'Fine.'

'Good. Well, let's shake on it then.'

'With pleasure. Just as soon as you unchain me.'

* * *

She had spent most of the day in her bedchambers reading and resting, regaining her strength in preparation for the night ahead. The bite marks had been easy to hide under the jeweled cuff of her gown and the only person who had remarked that anything was amiss was Caroline. Elena had explained in no uncertain terms that she and Caroline were no longer friends and had furtively hoped that Caroline took that to be the explanation for her locked door. Even the climb down from her balcony had gone smoothly. Granted she had been forced to tuck her gown into her undergarment, but at least she had reached the bottom on her feet rather than her behind. Thank Malam it seemed she was an excellent sneak because as yet nobody had caught on to her nocturnal activities.

The front door was open when she arrived at Birch Manor, which she took to be an invitation to enter without knocking. She found Damon in his enormous dining room. The long table and all the chairs had vanished and in their place the floor had been covered with many layers of soft, springy matting.

'Evening Princess, it's your lucky day.' he smiled, looking genuinely happy to see her. The smile that had disarmed thousands of women over the years worked it's charm on her too and she fell straight into his trap.

'Oh? Why's that?'

'Because today's the day I finally let you get into my pants,' he handed her a pair of soft, black breeches, laughing softly at his own joke.

'What am I going to do with these?' she questioned, deliberately glossing over his sexual innuendo.

'Put them on. Have you seem many men fighting in dresses recently? No? Well there's a reason for that. Bloody pain in the arse they are, always getting tangled up around your ankles. I remember this one time...'

'Wait a minute. Are you saying you know how inconvenient dresses are...from your own experience...'

'You live as long as I have and there's nothing you haven't done.'

'I _have _to hear this story.'

'Do you now? Well, I'll make you a deal. Today's lesson is about holds and throws, you manage to flip me, just once, and I'll tell you the tale.'

'Okay, deal. Let's do this.'

Elena paused holding the breeches and looking at Damon expectantly.

'In what universe am I going to allow you to watch me undress?'

'Suit yourself, ' Damon pouted, leaving the room, 'but just so you know, I'm very good with buttons if you need a helping hand.'

'In your dreams.'

* * *

Elena flopped back on the mat, exhausted, but satisfied, her breath coming in ragged bursts. Damon had certainly put her through her paces. He made her do an hour of strength and stamina exercises before they even began with the fighting skills, insisting that fitness was the key to becoming a great warrior. Once they finally began she was in her element. She picked it up with surprising ease and Damon was begrudgingly forced to admit she was a natural. As her breathing began to regulate she threw a hasty prayer of thanks to Trigger, God of all things fighting and war. She was convinced he must have heard her request for help earlier on in the evening. How else could she explain how a novice, a petite little girl, could flip a man, no an experienced vampire over her shoulder and pin him to the mat. And so, true to his word, Damon entertained her with a witty yarn about a dancing bear, a vampire in drag and a tavern full of drunken sailors.

It felt so good to laugh, truly laugh, deep from her belly, until the corners of her mouth ached from smiling. The combination of exercise and laughter made her feel a weightless joy and youthfulness she had long since given up on. Damon finished his story and rolled over onto his side, propping himself up into his elbow, his gaze suddenly earnest.

'This is going to be an interesting ride.'

'I think it's safe to say it already has been.'


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**A/N: All your supportive reviews have inspired me to write this lovely long chapter so quickly, so thank you for that. I hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

Sure, you had to hand it to the guy the farming initiative had been a great idea and it was really starting to take off, but he didn't half drone on about it Elena thought wearily, her eyes fixed blankly on her husband, a fake proud smile frozen on her face. She was bone-tired from a heavy nights practice with Damon. After a month of solid training last night he'd finally let her hold a weapon, granted it wasn't a sword, but still, a bow and arrow wasn't bad. She had to thank Elvin, the eagle-eyed God, for answering her prayers as she picked up the bow even quicker than she had mastered hand-to-hand. A good thing too because Damon delighted in 'tutoring' her by pressing his lean, hard body up behind hers and guiding her into position. It was the oldest trick in the book, yet still she found her heart beating just a little faster, her palms a little sweatier and her nerve endings acutely sensitive. And from the arrogant smile on his lips she was sure Damon knew it too. As the days went by she had to remind herself more and more often that he was a mass murdering, blood-sucking abomination.

'So you see, Your Highness, the land bought by The Crown which was formerly used to grow tarnoch root has been divided up and rented out to the peasants. They are using the money they earnt from selling to pay rent and buy new, faster, more efficient char crystal run machinery. They are growing corn, wheat, barley, turnips, potatoes, leeks, cabbages, carrots...'

'Yes, yes Prince Stefan, we get the idea. Very good, very good.'

'Begging your pardon, Sire, it's more than good, it's genius, if I do say so myself. Mystic Falls is well on its way to becoming self-sufficient. The rent payed by the peasants will in due course make The Crown richer than ever and by growing their own food the peasants are able to support and feed their families. In one masterstroke I shall bring an end to the recession and Mystic Falls shall prosper once more.'

'It has proven to be a very good initiative thus far, but don't get too cocky my boy, the countryside is still riddled with outlaws. Many of the peasants are too afraid to take up your land offer.'

'Have no fear, my Rippers will see to that.'

'Rippers?'

'Excuse me, Your Highness, a slip of the tongue, I mean the National Guard.'

'Yes, well, we shall see. You are dismissed.'

'Very good, Your Highness.'

Stefan exited the king's bedchambers without once even acknowledging his wife's presence in the room. Since that day when Elena had witnessed his altercation with Caroline he hadn't said one word to her. Nor had he visited her bedchamber, to Elena's heartfelt relief. It couldn't last, there was already gossip amongst the court and frankly the lack of an heir must have been getting rather embarrassing for Stefan. She knew he would be back, it was just a question of when, but this time she'd be ready for him.

* * *

'Would it be too burdensome, my dear, if I asked you to come and sit with your old father a while?'

Elena snapped out of her reverie and dragged her chair closer so she could sit and hold her father's hand.

'You are never a burden to me.'

'Nonsense, you know very well that I'm a cantankerous, pernickety old man, too stubborn and old-fashioned to listen to any of your newfangled notions.'

'Yes, but your my cantankerous, pernickety old man and there is nowhere else I'd rather be.'

'Fine, I'll allow such sweet lies.'

'Family comes first, Father, you taught me that. Do you remember the time that the Crown Prince of Waturin was visiting us? You were so close to finalizing a brilliantly advantageous trade agreement with him and you were holding a grand dinner to seal the deal. Do you remember?'

'Like it was yesterday. You were so little, only five or six years old. You always insisted on wearing your hair like a peasant child in two bunches, I remember that. Go on, you tell the story so much better than I, sweetheart.'

'I was sick. I had a fever and a terrible stomach ache. I was sitting up in bed wailing and hollering and the nurses couldn't get me to stop. Mother was off on one of her wanderings again, so there was no-one to call but you. You came to my room, all dressed up in your formal-wear, and you read to me, story after story, until I calmed down. By this time you were horribly late, so you leaned over to give me a hug before going on your way and that was the moment I chose to vomit all over your shoes. And do you remember what you said to me then?'

'I said: Thank you, sweetheart, I needed to polish up my shoes before the dinner anyways.'

'That's right. It was right then that I realized there was nothing I could do that meant you would stop loving me.'

'That will always be true, even after I'm gone.'

'Don't talk like that Father, you can still get better.'

'My daughter, you must listen to me, it is time to prepare yourself. My time on this plane is nearly done. I can feel myself growing weaker every day.'

Tears began to form in the corners of Elena's eyes and she fought valiantly to hold them in as she squeezed lightly on her father's hand.

'Don't be sad. I'm not scared. I am almost ready to die. I am sure I have done enough good in this life to be judged for The Beyond and I am certain I will see you there one day too. We will be reunited. There is but one thing that I must try to hold on for.'

'What is that, Father?'

'I would go in peace if I could but look upon the face of my first grandchild before I die.'

The floods could be held back no longer and at that Elena fled the room, tears streaming down her face.

* * *

'How was your day, Princess?' Damon quizzed her as she slumped along the hallway towards the staircase.

'Tiresome.'

'Well, it's a good job all you have to do this evening is bleed.'

The best Elena could manage was a non-committal grunt as she dragged herself up the stairs towards his bedroom.

'You know, much as I like seeing you wearing my clothes, you only have to wear my pants on training nights. I'm starting to miss my sugary pink princess.'

'Well, you try climbing down that trellis in a skirt and then we'll see how you feel about frilly dresses.'

'Fair point. I didn't realise you climbed. Can't you just sneak out the door?'

'No. Stefan has eyes everywhere. I think he's even gotten to Caroline, my former best friend.'

'Oh, I'm sorry, you're right to be careful.'

There was an awkward silence as Damon swallowed down feelings of rage and protectiveness that he chose not to examine too closely, before he attempted to lighten the mood by adding, 'Well, I'll give you another pair of breeches, those are starting to smell!'

She threw one of his feather pillows with perfect aim and it bonked him square in the face.

'I think it's about time I tied you up, mister.'

'I thought you'd never ask.'

She gave the chain a perfunctory tug before setting to work on the buttons of her cuff. The truth was she'd become rather lapse about his restraints. The key to his shackles was hastily shoved in her pocket rather than carefully set on the dresser on the other side of the room. She no longer asked him to test to see if the bonds were secure. In fact, she had become aware that they were merely keeping up appearances. She knew his strength and range of motion in the position they favoured meant he could pin her down and drain her dry while still in chains. The simple fact, whether she wanted to admit it or not, was that somewhere down the line she had begun to trust him, just as he'd predicted. The alarming thing was that the only part of this fact that bothered her was the implication that he'd been right all along. She hated to lose.

* * *

She was a downy white feather rolling gently on the waves of the ocean. All of the tension, the anxiety, the rage had left her body. Her exhaustion enveloped her but she knew it was okay to give in and find peace. She was safe and well protected. She could rest.

She wondered idly if he was doing this on purpose, if he could control it or even knew how he affected her. Over the past month his bite had made her feel so many things. At times she felt sure he knew what he was doing, how else could the sensations mirror the mood between the two of them so exactly. Often after a time-honoured bout of verbal sparing, especially if she reigned victorious, scooping the grand prize of having the last word, his bite seemed made to irritate her. It was a thousand flies buzzing over her body, or hundreds of tiny pins pricking her skin or a continually moving itch she just couldn't scratch. On other occasions when Damon was being particularly flirty and the sexual tension was palpable in the room as he drank from her, he seemed to ignite every nerve ending in her body and she could feel his mouth far beyond the limitations of her wrist. She wanted to ask him about it, but that would reveal the power he had over her, and worse, force her to admit she felt something other than loathing and disgust in his presences. So she said nothing, letting his warmth wash over her and allowing him to anonymously give her exactly what she needed.

* * *

Languidly he released her wrist and helped her into a more comfortable repose on his bed. As she lay, half-asleep, he gently fished around in her pocket until he found the key and released himself from his bonds. He lay down next to her, content to observe her, uninhibited, as she regained some strength. To be fair at that moment he would have been happy to observe the ends of the earth, such was the power of her blood. The taste seemed just as delicately powerful as the day he had first bitten her, but it was the way her blood made him feel that he had come to crave more than anything. She bought him to such extreme heights, such powerful ecstasies as he had never know. It wasn't always good, sometimes he felt excruciating pain and sadness that he couldn't comprehend. However, it was always worth it, to feel such a large range of emotions so vividly after centuries of beige was like being re-born. He felt now, finally, he understood what living was all about. Today, she made him feel weary to his very core. He was so tired but now she was here, he could rest. He was home.

* * *

'Damon, wake up! Come on you stupid vampire, you're supposed to be a creature of the night!'

'Five more minutes...'

Damon sleepily placed his hands on her waist and attempted to roll over and continue snoozing, pulling Elena with him. She was so utterly unprepared for this unprecedented attack of snuggles that she failed to put her hands out in time to stabilize herself and consequently fell face first onto the bed, her body perpendicular to his.

'Get off me, you oaf! Damon! I mean it, wake up! I'm leaving.'

That seemed to get his attention, he released his grip on her and sat up, viciously rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

'Huh? What time is it?'

'It's almost midnight. We fell asleep. I was supposed to be home hours ago.'

'Right. I don't know what came over me, I just suddenly felt exhausted.'

'I know what you mean. I guess we have been going at it pretty hard.'

'Oh Princess, you flatter me, but believe me when I say, I can go _much_ harder.'

'I was going to say thank you for the wonderfully restorative nap, but now I realise the only reason it was so peaceful was because it finally shut you up.'

Before they could enter into full on bickering mode there was a loud clap of thunder, followed unsurprisingly, by a flash of lightning and they suddenly became aware of the howling wind whipping up against the windows and the sound of pouring rain reverberating off the roof.

'Sounds like there's a storm.'

'Thank you, Captain Obvious,' Elena said snarcastically as she struggled to her feet still feeling a little woozy from blood lose.

They made their way over to the window and peered out. There was a storm alright. It was a full on torrential downpour with hurricane force winds. The trees were being tested and some looked dangerously close to being uprooted. Debris was flying everywhere and the ground has been pulverized to a sludgy pulp.

'Yeah, I don't think your going back to the castle anytime soon, Princess.'

'I have to. What if someone notices I'm gone?'

'I don't think so. You're staying right here with me until I say it's safe.'

'You're not the boss of me, Damon.'

'True, but don't be ridiculous Elena, look at it out there. Plus, you've lost a lot of blood and your body hasn't had time to replace it yet.'

She said nothing, not wanting to admit defeat. Just this once he let it go without gloating and simply said, 'How about a midnight feast? I have chocolate milk and banana bread.'

'Chocolate milk! You truly are a terrifying fiend, a harbinger of death, when will my torment be ended?'

'If you want torment then I could always make you sit and watch me drink it all without giving you any.'

'No! Fine, I take it back. Looks like we're having a sleepover. After snack time can I style your hair?'

'Not for all the whiskey in The Highlands.'

* * *

'But I'm not tired anymore. Let's do something fun.'

'I can think of something fun we could do on a dark stormy night...'

'Me too. I just need to get something from your bedroom. Wait here.'

Elena skipped away like a little girl off to a tea party. Damon was pretty sure she wasn't about to take him up on his dirty little suggestion. He wasn't even sure if he really wanted her to at this point. The plan had been to use their deal coupled with his erotic bite to seduce her, but somewhere along the line things had gotten muddled for him. At first it was about winning, about making her take back her words and forcing her to give in. Then it had become about lust and his desire to see what it would be like to have their bodies intertwined. But now, suddenly he hadn't the heart for it anymore. It wasn't that he didn't want her, it was just that it didn't seem right. Which left him in quite the predicament. He wasn't sure how she fit into his life, what role she could play in his story. All he knew was that he craved her blood like an addict and more than that, he missed her when she wasn't around. I need to get out more he berated himself I'm starting to think of her as a friend.

Elena bounded back into the room looking pleased as punch and dropped his old Wordsmith game down into his lap.

'You want to play a boardgame? What are you, five years old?'

'Says you, Mr. Chocolate Milk.'

'Fine, but I have to warn you, I rule at this game.'

'Well, I rule this kingdom and everything in it, so get ready to get schooled.'

'Big words for such a little princess.'

'That _is_ the aim of the game. Come on, let's play.'

* * *

'I can't believe you did that! You spoiled little brat!'

'Well, if your going to cheat then what other choice do you leave me with?'

'For the last time Damon, 'discombobulated' is not a real word.'

'It is so!'

'Oh, just help me pick all this up.'

They had been playing for hours and it was three-thirty in the morning when things had come to a head. The lack of a dictionary to verify the facts combined with two extremely stubborn, self-assured people had resulted in all out war culminating in Damon picking up the entire board and hurling it across the room. In the silence that followed the end of his diva fit it had quickly dawned on them the ridiculousness of the situation and they had collapsed into hysterics, laughing at their own behavior.

'It's still blowing a gail out there. I've had a really fun night Damon, but I'm a little wiped again. Do you think it would be okay if I crashed here for a few hours?'

'Not a problem.'

'So where should I sleep?'

'You know where my room is.'

'Be serious.'

'I was being. None of the other rooms have any furniture in them, there are no other beds. I don't usually have guests.'

'What's the point of having a huge manor house then?'

'Because I can.'

'Fine, but you can sleep in the chair.'

'No way. This is my house remember. Anyway, you managed just fine earlier.'

'I guess, just keep your hands to yourself.'

'I will make no such promises.'

'Well, I do promise to realign your testicles if I feel so much as a digit slide in my direction.'

* * *

She had been so tired when they had headed off to bed, but as soon as she lay down she found herself unable to sleep. She couldn't turn off her mind. She was thinking about her father and their conversation earlier that day. She didn't want to accept that he was dying. With her father gone and her mother more of an absent shell than a real parent she would have no-one left. She would be alone with only Stefan for company, a terrifying thought. Damon was teaching her to defend herself physically but her couldn't help her defend her heart.

Despite his earlier threats Damon had been the perfect gentleman, positioning himself well out of touching range on the other side of the bed. She on the other hand had been a dreadful bed companion. She had been tossing restlessly for the last hour and she had gotten up to go to the loo three times already. She was rearranging her pillow for the millionth time when Damon reached the end of his patience.

'Okay, lay it on me, what's the matter Princess? Is there a pea under the mattress or something, because you've been squirming nonstop since we lay down.'

'It's nothing.'

'Well, it's obviously something.'

'You wouldn't understand.'

'Try me.'

'It's my father. He's sick. I think he's dying.'

'I'm sorry.'

'With him gone, I'll be all alone. I'll be lost. With no-one to love who will tether me to this plane? How can I keep going without him? What is even the point?'

'I understand that more than you realise. You think in all my days I haven't experienced love and lose? You remember that picture you found? Katherine.'

'I'm sorry. How thoughtless and selfish of me. I think I know you a little better now, Damon. I know you're capable of love.'

'With love, lose and sorrow are inevitable, especially for an immortal. People always tell you afterwards that you have to go on living because that's what they would have wanted, but the truth is, it's not about them anymore. The dead move on and find their own peace. We, as the ones left behind, have to find our own way. The truth is, hope is the reason you find the strength to keep going. Hope that one day you will have love in your life again.'

Simultaneously they rolled to face each other, closing the gap between their bodies. She looked at him, tears glimmering in her eyes and offered him a soft half-smile. She didn't know how to express her gratitude for his comforting words of wisdom. She opened her mouth to try to speak but before she could utter a single syllable he pushed her back into the mattress. He pinned both her arms above her head using only one hand. The other hand reached for her waist, demanding that her body connect with his. She knew what was coming next but she was too dazed to stop it, so she waited and watched as if paralyzed as his mouth came down to meet her own. His kiss was hard and demanding. She felt as if he had finally snapped and after a month of feeding off her blood, this was it, he was going to consume her completely.

Eventually, it seemed he remembered that she needed to breath. He relinquished his possession of her mouth, hovering above her so they were nose to nose. She looked him straight in the eye with steely resolve and firmly asked him, 'How could you?'

Within seconds he released her and removed himself to the other side of the room. She scrambled off the bed and bolted from the house, out into the stormy night.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**A/N: It's been a long time since my last update, sorry about that, life just got in the way. I hate it when that happens, anyway, back to fantasy...**

* * *

They had been sparing for some time, Elena had landed several good blows on his torso and arms, but it wasn't enough to conclusively end the fight. She hopped back a little, out of his range, her guard was up and her weight was balanced on the balls of her feet, she felt like a coiled spring, loaded and ready for action. She saw an opening and she took it. An expertly timed roundhouse kick to the face sent his still smiling head flying across the room. It hit the wall with a thud and exploded, spewing chunks of orange flesh and slimy seeds in all directions. Elena sighed in dissatisfaction, no matter how many times she pummeled Damon the Dummy or how many pumpkin heads she annihilated, her anger at her practice aide's namesake would not dissipate. She wanted to forgive Damon. She was tired of cleaning up pumpkin pulp and training with a dummy was not nearly as effective as the real deal, but she could not get past what he had done.

In any other moment Damon's kiss wouldn't have taken her by surprise, it was almost par for the course. Damon was an incurable flirt and it was inevitable that he would try to lock lips with her at some point. After all, he took any opportunity however tenuous to touch her or get inappropriately close. He had made it clear that he had no intention of respecting her personal space, and she was amazed he hadn't tried to kiss her before. But still, when it finally did happen she found herself paralyzed with shock, quickly followed by feelings of anger and disappointment. She had to admit that she had been unconsciously falling into his trap before that moment. She had begun to trust him, to relax her guard around him and this kiss just proved to her what a mistake that was. She had let herself open up to him, shared some very private emotions and shown him the truly delicate nature of her heart, something she had never allowed herself to do with anyone before. In return h had seized her vulnerability and use it to his advantage. He was just like Stefan, sniffing out her weaknesses and using them to get what he wanted. He had a little piece of her now and she could never get it back. It was that, the fact that he had seen her lose control for just a minute, that was the true fire that fueled her rage.

The kiss in and of itself, well, that was something else entirely. It felt like a wave of molten lava was rolling down her body when their lips met. She had felt a deep and intimate connection which she had only ever experienced in one other situation, and that was when he drank from her. Damon had told her that he had spent his long years on this earth honing his fighting, but from his kiss Elena was sure combat was not the only art he had perfected. He was obviously an accomplished lover, and he could make any woman he chose weak at the knees. What she had felt was not special, it did not speak of anything other than a master plying his skill. She needed to remember that and remain in control. So she allowed her wrath to consume her and banished all thoughts of what it might have felt like had she allowed him to continue.

With the pumpkin gunge disposed of any trace of her sparing practice had been erased. She wiped her hands on her dress and meandered vaguely in the direction of her father's chambers. She arrived at his door with no idea how she had gotten there, she was so deeply lost in her thoughts. She would have been less surprised to see Fiesta's devout at a sobriety meeting than she was to catch Stefan and her father as she found them when she poked her head round the door unannounced. Stefan was refreshing a muslin cloth in some cold water before re-applying it to sooth the king's fevered brow, all the while singing a soft slumber ballad under his breath. Stefan glanced up, placed his finger on his lips when he saw her at the door and tiptoed towards her.

'He's resting. His temperature is coming down and the physicians say he is over the worst of it, but I'm afraid this latest batch of fever will have weakened him still further.'

'Yes, I agree, I spoke to the physicians myself this morning. It is nice to find another at his side, caring for him in what I fear could be the last of his days. Thank you, Stefan.'

'Please. Where else would I be? I love him as a father and respect him as a king. It is my honour to do what I can.'

Elena gave him a genuine smile of gratitude. It was in these rare moments when she caught a glimpse of compassion in Stefan that she felt truly validated in her choice of husband, her own personal feelings aside.

'Had you an update on the kingdom for the king?'

'Yes, but as you see I think he is too tired to hear it just now.'

'Well, you can relay it to me, if you please, Stefan.'

'As you command, my wife, but there was nothing much to report really. There have been no more bodies found nor missing girl's reported in the town in many weeks. Despite my suspicions I am forced to conclude that the killer may have been part of a particularly notorious band of outlaws, The Mikaelson clan, who may have been passing through. At any rate they are gone now, they have been spotted down by the East Falls. A particularly violent lot.'

'I am glad to hear that Mystic Fall's town is safe once more, however I fear for the country folk out in East Falls, if the Mikaelson clan are as blood thirsty as you claim. What will you do about it?'

'Unfortunately nothing. We have no word on their exact location, they appear to be lying low at the moment, but make no mistake, once we have discovered their hideout my Rippers will neutralize them without hesitation.'

'I hope you have obtained substantial evidence to support your sentence this time.'

'I do. I cannot conclusively pin the town murders on them but they have left quiet a trail of bodies in their wake. I have a whole catologue of evidence condemning them.'

'That is of great relief to me, Stefan.'

'And I, more than you might suppose Elena.'

There was pregnant pause and Elena turned to leave thinking the conversation was over, when Stefan called out:

'Wait...Elena...might I request you're permission to visit you chambers tonight. I know I have behaved reprehensibly of late, but I promise you that it will not happen again.'

'I will think on it.'

'Thank you. I will not push you with your decision, but I implore you to consider the health of your father and his wish to see his first born grandchild. I give you my word that I will never lay a hand on you again.'

'You are right. That is my only consideration. Your behaviour was beyond appalling and I cannot honestly say that I have forgiven you, but I am an honourable person, unlike some, and I will do my duty to my father and my kingdom. So yes, very well, but give me two days to prepare myself. You may come on the night of the Mid-Winter Ball.'

'So be it. I will bid you good morning now Elena, I have much to attend to.'

* * *

Elena left her father's chambers in a flurry after spending far too long holding his hand and trying to lift his spirits. She wanted to get to the temples and back before dinner was served, but it was going to be a squeeze. She was haphazardly pinning her hat in place as she flew across the cobbled courtyard towards the castle's main exit. Her mother was making her way from the garden's back to the castle with a basket of freshly cut calla lilies when Elena, in her haste, almost bowled Queen Sophie over.

'Mother! Goddess! Are you alright?'

'Yes, thank you my dear, but where are you off to at such a pace?'

'The temples.'

'As I suspected. I have noticed that you pray an awful lot for one so young. Tell me, my daughter, what troubles burden you so that you feel only the Gods can help you?'

'It is nothing mother. I simply go to give thanks.'

'I love you, but I don't believe you. There are very few who count themselves truly contented who still remember to praise the Gods. I myself can be quite devout at times and my heart is full of woes and regrets.'

'Yes, I had noticed, mother. Well, then why not accompany me to the temples and unburden yourself. At least that way I may be graced with the pleasure of your company for a full ten minutes as we walk.'

Elena's cutting sarcasm seemed to pass straight over the queen's head, causing no more offense than a sleeping babe, and she simply replied:

'What a lovely idea.'

So the two set off, Elena lightening the load her mother insisted on bringing by carrying the basket of flowers.

There was little talk as they walked along Temple Lane, both mother and daughter were caught up in their own heads. After only a short while Elena heard her mother gasp and turned to see her standing frozen to the spot staring up at the iron fortress of Trigger as if seeing it for the first time. Elena retraced her steps and followed her mother's gaze, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Just the spiked temple guarded by burly iron-clad foot soldiers brandishing swords that had been sharpened to a lethal point, so she asked:

'Mother? What is it?'

The queen continued to stare, ignoring her daughter's questions before dropping to her knees in the middle of the street and crying out in anguish:

'Why? Why, why?'

Then she began to sob uncontrollably, tears streaming down her face, hiccups issuing forth and snot bubbling at her nose. She clawed at the ground, balling handfuls of dirt from the road in her clenched fists, her eyes never leaving the temple. Elena crouched down next to her, jostling her basket in the process so the calla lilies tumbled out and landed on the floor surrounding her mother. She attempted to question the queen, then to sooth her and finally to reason with her to no avail. Eventually she was forced to give up and conclude that she would just have to let her mother cry it out. So she continued on alone towards her destination leaving Queen Sophie howling in the flower strewn dirt surrounded by guards, in the capable hands of her Lady-in-waiting, causing quite a commotion on Temple Lane.

As she knelt down in her usual spot it occurred to her that although she had made her way instinctively to the temple of Opal she had no idea what she wanted to request of the Goddess. To remain barren and save herself from the agony of an unwanted pregnancy by a husband she didn't love or for a son, an heir to the kingdom, a grandchild for her dying father and some relief from Stefan's nocturnal visits. Finally she settled on a simple prayer:

'Divine Goddess. Radiant Opal. You have so much experience and wisdom when it comes to childbearing, and I am a mess and I don't know what to do or what to think. So hear my prayer, I implore you. I humbly ask you to look upon my situation and reach down and intervene as you see fit. Tell me or show me what to do, for I know not. I put my trust in you, for I have no one else.'

* * *

Just as she exited the temple to sun made one of its rare appearances from behind the clouds. Although she took this to be a good omen she decided it would be best to cross the street and walk home in the shade, red and peely was not a good look for the up-coming ball. Just as she reached the middle of the thoroughfare a sleek black hansom cab shot round the corner and came thundering directly towards her. She dove out of the way just in time landing in a dusty heap on the dirt road as the carriage screeched to a halt in the exact spot she had previously been standing in. The driver jumped down and rushed towards her,

'Miss, miss, are you alright? I know I was going too fast but you see my master, miss, he said he would break my neck if I didn't get him home at top speed.'

'Please, I'm perfectly alright, continue on your way before you anger him further.'

Elena took the coachman's proffered hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. It seemed that only then did he realize who she was. He dropped to his knees in front of her and bowed his head.

'Your Royal Highness, Princess Elena, I beg you to forgive me. I have endangered your life and I offer to you my own life in penance.'

Before she was able to reply a dark figure in a wide-brimmed black top hat poked his head almost fearfully around the heavy drapery at the carriage window and demanded,

'What's the bloody hold up? I though I made it clear what the consequences of tardiness would be for you. Good Gods man, get up off the floor and leave that tasty little bit of skirt in peace.'

Elena whipped around to face him, she knew the owner of that smooth and haughty voice.

'I might have known it would be you, driving like a bat out of hell and threatening the help. You may get up now young man, no penance necessary.'

The driver lurched to his feet, shot her a grateful look and scuttled back to his post.

'Princess, it has been too long since I had the pleasure. Take a ride in my carriage with me.'

'I will have to decline your kind offer, Lord Damon, I promised myself that I wouldn't get into dark, confined spaces with inappropriate men today.'

'Well, we need to talk, and much as I would like to take a stroll in the sunshine, a tan does nothing for my complexion.'

'I have nothing to say to you, Lord Damon, so I will happily bid you good day.'

Damon drew his head back into the cab with a huff. Elena could hear him muttering to himself something about infuriating women, before the carriage door flew open to reveal Damon wearing a long black great-coat, black leather gloves, a black top hat and carrying a lady's parasol open to its full lacy white glory above his head. Elena could not contain the snort of amusement as, unabashed by the stares, Damon formally offered her his arm and concluded:

'Fine. You win. A walk it is.'

* * *

They walked in amicable silence until they reached a wooden bench under the shade of a thick canopy of interlocking pine trees at the edge of Pine Hill Forest. After double checking that they were truly alone, they both began to speak at once.

'You go.'

'No, I insist, after you, Princess.'

'Your not really going to break that man's neck are you?'

'No. I promised didn't I? I don't make promises I have no intention of keeping. I never promised not to pursue you, I thought I made it very clear. I want you. Still, you came to me anyway, so don't act all hurt and shocked now, just because I tried it on a little. After all, I stopped when you asked, didn't I?'

'I guess, it was just, you caught me off guard.'

'Look, I'll admit it was poor timing, but that's just me. I don't do all that mushy gushy feelings crap and I just wanted to remind you of that. I'm in this for two things only: your blood and eventually your body.'

'Well, you nearly had me fooled. Is that what that was all about? Comfort the girl so you can lower her guard, get her to trust you and then take her while she's too vulnerable to protest? Well, it's not going to work on me.'

'Look, I refuse to apologize for kissing you. That kiss was an earth-shaker, a bloody eye-opener, for me and for you. It showed us just how good we would be together, and don't say you didn't feel it too.'

'I felt what you wanted me to feel. Another part of your seduction. Just drop the act will you, because I'm on to you.'

Damon let out a despairing sigh and thought for a minute. This was going nowhere. She was never going to believe him. Words were not enough. But he knew he had to convince her to come back. These past weeks had been torture. He had gotten used to seeing her everyday and to have that taken away had left him with an aching hole that no amount of whiskey could fill, although he had tried.

'You're right, Princess, it was nothing. Can't you just chalk it down to yet another frog who failed to turn into a prince? Come back. Our agreement still holds, I haven't touched a drop of human blood since your last visit.'

'My Goddess! I hadn't thought. Well, you look alright to me, what have you been doing for blood then?'

'Animal blood. It sustains me, for a while, but I'm weak, every day on this diet I grow weaker and eventually I will fade and die. Vampires are meant to drink human blood and that alone is the key to my continual existence.'

'Oh, Damon, you must be suffering terribly, why didn't you just take a nip from some other girl?'

'I've felt better, but I gave you my word and I never go back on my promises.'

To Damon's utter amazement she unbuttoned the cuff of her lavender gown and held out her wrist saying,

'Here, take some now.'

'Are you sure? Here? In public? I can last a little longer you know.'

'I'm sure. Just hurry up and drink before I change my mind.'

With a cursory glance around Damon swiftly fanged out and bit down. His thirst was so great and Elena's blood was so sweet and pure after all that animal swill that the first few mouthfuls burnt as they gushed into his throat. He drank quickly and more savagely than usual, taking no time to savour her unique taste, such was his desperation. He thought, no it was as if he could feel her pain at his bite, but her could not stop. As her pulse began to slow he forced himself to rein it in and he pulled away. He licked the wound closed and sat back momentarily sated. He still held her wrist in his lap and he traced idle figures of eight with his fingertips over his fresh bite mark as she collected herself. He chuckled internally as he noticed a delicious shiver roll up her spine and noted that she was pretending not to notice his caress.

'So, you'll come back to training?'

'Yes,' she replied simply, slightly leaning into his side contentedly and making no effort to remove her arm.

'Good. I've missed my feisty, trouser-clad she-warrior. Although it is nice to see you wrapped up in another candy-sweet gown. I love these gowns, especially on you. Makes you look so innocent yet confident at the same time.'

Damon released her wrist and brushed her hair back from her shoulders. Then he began silkily trailing his finger round the shell of her ear and slowly down over the small exposed portion of her neck above her collar, as he whispered in her ear:

'And the best part...with these collars it would be so easy to sink my fangs into your smooth, unblemished neck...'

* * *

**A/N: If you're enjoying my story please let me know.**


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